Brow creasing as he adjusts to it, clever mind already noting little things like how they shift in balance. Like the dig of the grips against his gloved palms, still held lightly by Dante’s own heavier grasp.
“Hm.” Soft. A breath of a thing, his forehead settling just beneath Dante’s downturned jawline, curls clinging to his skin.
“Ever the story repeats.”
But that’s part of it, isn’t it? Part of the pain this place latched onto. Part of the difficulty of trust, and closeness, and remembering that not every bit of contact comes with promised agony nestled in behind it.
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Those memories.
Brow creasing as he adjusts to it, clever mind already noting little things like how they shift in balance. Like the dig of the grips against his gloved palms, still held lightly by Dante’s own heavier grasp.
“Hm.” Soft. A breath of a thing, his forehead settling just beneath Dante’s downturned jawline, curls clinging to his skin.
“Ever the story repeats.”
But that’s part of it, isn’t it? Part of the pain this place latched onto. Part of the difficulty of trust, and closeness, and remembering that not every bit of contact comes with promised agony nestled in behind it.
And so.
“...it won’t be like that, here.”