[Walking away would surely kill him. Or what little is left before the dark sets in, he isn't sure. It would be safer, it would have to be safer. But he doesn't, and even knowing, Padmé only budges to draw him in closer, and however much safer for either of them it might be to call this off, he knows he can't live like that.
He breathes her in and remembers everything: the intoxication, the comfort, the need. In time, his heart slows, its pace meeting her own in perfect sync (or what he fancies as such, figuratively if nothing else). Padmé is, and remains, a too-large fraction of his soul, and the thought of leaving this is absurd.
Wrapping his arms around her back, he grounds himself in that soothing presence, forgets for a moment whether he should think himself worthy of it or not.
At her answer, Anakin can only nod. He might think that relationship just as unsalvageable as it had been when Obi-Wan had offered something similar in the wake of those awful revelations--someone else who should have taken the chance to walk away--but she has a point. Alone, they've only ended up like this: broken, wounded, and so terribly sad.
Together, it feels like this. Warm, and comforting. Like there might be a solution, somewhere.
Like home.]
I love you.
[It's murmured there, into her skin, as if it could embed itself as a permanent piece of her fundamental construction. It feels so small and so overwrought all at once, but if there is anything he's learned in the last several months, it's that he can't take anything for granted.
Not even something this implicit. Especially not something this implicit.]
no subject
He breathes her in and remembers everything: the intoxication, the comfort, the need. In time, his heart slows, its pace meeting her own in perfect sync (
or what he fancies as such, figuratively if nothing else). Padmé is, and remains, a too-large fraction of his soul, and the thought of leaving this is absurd.Wrapping his arms around her back, he grounds himself in that soothing presence, forgets for a moment whether he should think himself worthy of it or not.
At her answer, Anakin can only nod. He might think that relationship just as unsalvageable as it had been when Obi-Wan had offered something similar in the wake of those awful revelations--someone else who should have taken the chance to walk away--but she has a point. Alone, they've only ended up like this: broken, wounded, and so terribly sad.
Together, it feels like this. Warm, and comforting. Like there might be a solution, somewhere.
Like home.]
I love you.
[It's murmured there, into her skin, as if it could embed itself as a permanent piece of her fundamental construction. It feels so small and so overwrought all at once, but if there is anything he's learned in the last several months, it's that he can't take anything for granted.
Not even something this implicit. Especially not something this implicit.]