[ His eyes follow her curiously as she sits next to him on the bed, and when she offers him his ring back he takes it without a second thought, sliding it back into place on his finger wordlessly. He has worn it for so long now, even before it became inscribed with her words for their wedding, that he had felt its absence keenly, naked and bare, and once its familiar presence returns to his hand, resonating warmly with hers, one more worry is lifted from his heart. Yes, this is right. This is where he is supposed to be.
Absently, a weary smile finds its place on his lips as he takes the brush from her, already turning and tentatively reaching out to touch her hair. ]
Yeah. [ A sob rubs against a laugh in his throat at this simple gesture. ] Yeah, you bet.
[ And so once he's sure she isn't going to change her mind, that this contact isn't asking too much, too soon, he starts to work the brush through her hair, fingers gently working through the snarls as they encounter them, treating her head and her hair like they are the most precious things he has ever touched. There's so much he wants to say, needs to ask, but for now, he lets his actions speak for themselves, for his elective silence to say more than his words ever could. It's all there, in his movements, anyway. His adoration and love for her, his appreciation for everything she has done and does for him now, his sorrow for having left her, for having died in her arms, for not being there for her when she needed him the most.
But he is here now, and this is where they begin to rebuild. ]
no subject
Absently, a weary smile finds its place on his lips as he takes the brush from her, already turning and tentatively reaching out to touch her hair. ]
Yeah. [ A sob rubs against a laugh in his throat at this simple gesture. ] Yeah, you bet.
[ And so once he's sure she isn't going to change her mind, that this contact isn't asking too much, too soon, he starts to work the brush through her hair, fingers gently working through the snarls as they encounter them, treating her head and her hair like they are the most precious things he has ever touched. There's so much he wants to say, needs to ask, but for now, he lets his actions speak for themselves, for his elective silence to say more than his words ever could. It's all there, in his movements, anyway. His adoration and love for her, his appreciation for everything she has done and does for him now, his sorrow for having left her, for having died in her arms, for not being there for her when she needed him the most.
But he is here now, and this is where they begin to rebuild. ]