idolpro | Nemesis Heart

[oh]

[His eyes well up; his arms lace around her, tugging her closer still]

[There's no way he can't give this back in kind, and he toggles Buddy Bond on, fighting against the hitch of his own breathing as he settles in against her, a perfect fit]

[She breathes in, sharp, shaky at the emotional feedback loop, at the intensity of his feelings ginned up with hers.

Unlike other times they've done this, there's no hesitation, no dark thoughts under the water. Just comfort and welcome and ease and pleasure that he's there; thanks that he would come here to do this--that he would come home.]

[Where else would he ever want to be?]

[Where else would he belong, but here?]

[It is a feedback loop, slow and warm and present, rushing over her from every point of contact between them: the same sense of sweet-warm-safe that this place itself radiates]

[It's tangled in with a lot of other things: fondness, almost overwhelmingly soft. Joy, and tenderness, and admiration, and something that is too straightforwardly earnest to be anything but love, washing over her in waves.]

[Of course he belongs here, of course he should have this--of course it would be here for him, whether he explicitly requests it or not.

She basks in the feelings, pleased; reflects them all back at him as well, bright and unashamed. More than that, she presses them out to him herself: contentedness and possession and esteem and approval, leitmotifs making up a song of what is unmistakably love.

By now, he might even recognize the tune; even if before it was too quiet to hear, covered by dissonant insecurities, it's still been played for quite some time. But even if not, there is plenty of time to learn it together, her assurance strong and true.]

[His breath hitches; his lashes are suspiciously damp, there at the corners]

[The tidal pull of his emotions swells to something unbearably bright and warm, hindered only by a stutter of disbelief at the melody; he's almost afraid to look too closely, for fear that he's somehow mistaken]

[The uncertainty doesn't last for long, though. It can't. It gets eclipsed by what radiates out from the center of her, and he swallows, hard, against the sudden lump in his throat]

[With an aching sort of yearning, he opens the doors to himself wide, to let the light stream in - gathers it close, holds it to him like something precious, and reflects light of his own back toward her in kind]

[There's nothing he's ever wanted to learn more than the notes to this song]

[She guesses they will have to start up that band after all]

[For now, she just continues, loosing more and more and more, warmth and emotion and love; taking all he offers as well, unhurried and content; happy to recognize and take and give this feeling for what it is.

At some point she's twisted around to face him; curls him closer to press a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet and pure]

[The tears finally spill over; his breath hitches, and he lifts his hands to her face, cupping it gently between his palms]

[He kisses her back, just as soft; the emotions radiating out from him are a little wobbly, a lot overwhelmed, but there's nothing but fondness, and joy, and tenderness, and admiration, and love, slow and sure like a heartbeat.]

[Good gets pressed to him, though it feels much more than simply good--it's right and perfect and trusting and home.

The other thing that's impressed upon him is remember. Not that she's unwilling to remind him of this feeling, of how real it is, how true, how much it is and has been and always will be his--not that there aren't still so many things to worry about, challenges that will come and troubles that will knock them down. Still--just to remember this feeling, this one thing in the world he does not have to doubt, so that perhaps she can help be his strength same as he is hers.

Buddy Bond or no, at least some of that intent comes through. And if her feelings can't be trusted here in the center of her heart, where can they be?]

[Now that the tears have started, they seem to be having a hard time slowing, though the smile on his lips is wobbly and unsteady and a little wondering]

[He presses another kiss to her lips - gets her damp with his tears, probably, and doesn't seem to notice, because he's too busy offering that reminder back her way, here in the center of her, where perhaps it can bury deep and take root someplace all the insecurities and second-guessing can't dig it out]

[The reminder is that it goes both ways: he will remember this, can't help but remember this, but she should remember this too, this feeling that goes bright and warm and trembling all the way through him, as vital as air]

[For the first time, there's a feeling of self-consciousness at the admonishment--shy without shame. She gently noses into him, offering up thanks, her smile soft against him]

[A soft swell of soothing floats out toward her: reassurance that she doesn't have to be self-conscious, especially not here, especially not with him]

[Everything is good; she is good. He just wants her to remember that, when he finally has to go]

[Who better to want to impress?

--But she gets it, and she offers up thanks, fondness. Everything is good, and she loves him, and she wants him to remember that...she wants to remind him.]

[He takes it in readily, if a little shy; gathers the reminder close, holding it near as though to keep it there, warm and steady and welcome, as armor against when the world outside throws more challenges their way]

[He presses his forehead to hers, soft - traces the line of her cheekbone with his thumb - kisses her again, a feather of a brush of his lips against hers]

[She sends more of it, then, as much as she can; not that she wouldn't any other time, but it's just so much easier to know how to do it properly here.

Her hand comes up to brush away the last of his tear tracks, comfortably warm; just about soothing enough to lull one to sleep.]

[It is soothing, thick and warm and sweet. He can almost taste it, every time he breathes in]

[He gathers it nearer and sends more out her way in reply, an endless feedback loop that laps at the edges of both of them, dizzyingly good, achingly welcome]

[And if perhaps his eyes drift closed, tucked in there against her, surely that can be forgiven]

[What is there to forgive? What better place to rest than here, surrounded by love and trust and belonging? There's no way even the worst of nightmares could survive here; not with the two of them together. What better honor than to be that source of safety?

She only sighs and tangles in closer, head to head and heart to heart. And even as they relax into each other, the warmth of their joined hands does not fade, and the song of love plays on.]

[He curls in closer against her, lulled by the warmth of her - by the intimacy - by a background melody with ringing notes that shimmer out to fill the whole of the world]

[He does not open his eyes again - because it's true, after all. Here, at least, no nightmares can reach them. Here the force of them combined is stronger than anything that might dare to stand against them]

[He tucks in against her, there in the center of her heart - reaches his arms out, to draw her closer still. He doesn't end the bond between them, even as he begins to drift, and she can feel the way everything becomes wavery and peaceful, soft around the edges with the onset of sleep]

[At length, he murmurs something, soft, into the skin of her collar bone, too indisinct to make out]

[Probably she doesn't need the words, though]

[Prrobably, she already knows]

Nemesis Heart - R2

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