theme under construction. you know when you’re drowning, you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out. it’s called voluntary apnea. it’s like, no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head’s exploding. but then when you finally do let it in, that’s when it stops hurting. it’s not scary anymore. it’s… it’s actually kind of peaceful.
I’ve been thinking about these scenes a lot. And all I want to know is when it happened. When did touch between them get so easy? How did it go from an instinctive grappling – a clumsy comfort, a necessary anchor – to something so steady and sure? When did he start touching her without his fingers trembling? When did she start leaning into the warmth of his hand? When did they decide that words were no longer required, that the press of skin on skin would be enough to say, I am here with you?
This was going to be a song lyric or something but now it’s feels instead. Just take them. Because f a c e t o u c h i n g.