"I don't want you to miss your plane," he says. "I - you should go." There's that familiar wrinkle of skepticism in her forehead, but he leads with the hand on the small of her back, and starts walking with her down the hall. "I keep my promises. We'll talk soon."
-
He sends her a small piece of the torn down wall in Anchorage.
He dreams about her.
She writes thank you for your piece of home. He doesn't know what to say after that.
-
It's Tuesday morning, and she's heading out of the apartment for a cup of coffee when --
"Hi."
She walks into his arms (everything feels familiar, moving together, breathing together).
"It was too hard," he says, and her breaths come as short, noiseless laughs, "The distance. Being so far from you."
She looks up at him and kisses him. "Then you should stay."
-
One morning, she takes him to the shore. The Pacific lapping softly over the tops of their feet.
She moves further out into the tide, stares out across the water, trails her fingertips across the top of a wave.
"Mako?"
She turns then, wading back out towards the sand. Towards him. She takes his hand, her grip firm and sure, and leads him out.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2013-07-24 12:32 am (UTC)"Raleigh," she says, barely a whisper.
"I don't want you to miss your plane," he says. "I - you should go." There's that familiar wrinkle of skepticism in her forehead, but he leads with the hand on the small of her back, and starts walking with her down the hall. "I keep my promises. We'll talk soon."
-
He sends her a small piece of the torn down wall in Anchorage.
He dreams about her.
She writes thank you for your piece of home. He doesn't know what to say after that.
-
It's Tuesday morning, and she's heading out of the apartment for a cup of coffee when --
"Hi."
She walks into his arms (everything feels familiar, moving together, breathing together).
"It was too hard," he says, and her breaths come as short, noiseless laughs, "The distance. Being so far from you."
She looks up at him and kisses him. "Then you should stay."
-
One morning, she takes him to the shore. The Pacific lapping softly over the tops of their feet.
She moves further out into the tide, stares out across the water, trails her fingertips across the top of a wave.
"Mako?"
She turns then, wading back out towards the sand. Towards him. She takes his hand, her grip firm and sure, and leads him out.
"Come," she whispers. "Let's go home."