imeeji_frontstage | (no subject)

...don't be sorry.

There ain't nothing to be sorry for.

[His voice is a little choked up, maybe]

[Ducks her head further, attempting to calm herself but shoulders trembling nevertheless]

[Keeps petting through her hair, very gentle]

You're good. I ain't going nowhere.

Take as long as you need, okay?

[She makes a small sound--another hitching breath--sags against him like there's no energy left to hold her up]

[He holds them both up - curls her in close]

[For a long time, he says nothing at all, just runs his fingers through her hair, gentle]

[For a long time, she just shudders against him, breath a stream of uneven little sobs. Her hands knot into his shirt, grip desperate.

For the most part she's quiet. The times she can't muffle it, her voice is low and aching]

[Eventually his silence gives way to whispered words: soft murmurs of assurance, barely heard, barely a breath of warmth spoken into her ear. His hand keeps up its soothing rhythm all the while, petting softly through her hair]

[It seems to take her a while to realize what he's doing, as much as she can acknowledge anything happening other than her own weeping. But when she finally does, she only cries harder, shoulders quaking]

[Apologies, as now his shirt is very wet,]

[If he notices the shirt at all, he gives no indication - only curls her closer, those whispered words low and gentle]

[She goes--sinks against him like lead, even out here, in public--even after having indulged so much already. But even if she'd wanted to, she can't quite manage to unwind her arms from where they lock around him, hands knotted in his shirt; can't manage to do anything more than muffle her sobs into his chest]

[He holds her close, gentle - rubs over her back, hand warm, the path of his palm steady and even]

[He doesn't stop speaking, quiet words for her ears only]

[A shaky, hiccoughing sob is the closest he gets to a response before she slumps back against him--giving up on anything but just riding out the tears.

The quiet weeping continues for some time.]

[He doesn't seem inclined to rush her - is happy to wait, voice soft and hands gentle as she cries herself out]

[That's appreciated]

[Eventually the heave of her shoulders and the soft keens vibrating into his shirt begin to trail off, fading to shaky sniffles. She doesn't release her grip on his shirt, but it loosens to something less desperate. Her face stays buried in his chest, regardless of the wet spot]

[His hand stays where it is, soothing and steady, palm warm through her shirt; he falls silent - leans in, instead, to press a soft kiss to her temple]

[She snuffles, and shifts just enough to tuck in more closely against him]

[His other arm comes up around her, drawing her in nearer; the first doesn't stop its gentle, soothing motion]

[Something quiet is mumbled against his chest; probably words, definitely apologetic. It doesn't stop her from curling in to his touch, or sneaking her hands beneath the hem of his shirt to feel the rise of his breath and the warmth of his skin]

[His own words back are just as quiet, if perhaps somewhat wobbly:]

You're good. I got you.

[Another kiss to her temple, very soft]

Edited 2022-01-30 21:00 (UTC)

[Another muffled sound, still apologetic, but equal parts thankful]

[She squeezes him more tightly, intentional]

Edited 2022-01-31 01:33 (UTC)

[Squeezes back, just as tight, hand soft and steady over her back]

...you wanna get outta here?

Could make you some tea at the hideout.

[He can probably tell from the set of her shoulders that she means to perhaps push him away. But she only pauses--then nods against him, small]

[Another squeeze, soft and steadying]

...c'mon. Let's get outta here.

[She nods again, though doesn't actually move to support herself under her own power until he attempts to stand,]

[He gives her a long few minutes before giving her one final squeeze - pulling back, a little, and offering her a hand]

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