[He's here. They both are. She knows death still doesn't care about anniversaries or dates, but it feels powerful to have made it this far. There's an unfamiliar surge of emotion, and maybe it's just because she's still waking up, or maybe she's still tired, or maybe she's just overwhelmed with the feelings of the past several days -- but her eyes well up with tears at the sight of his own exhausted face.
She rolls over to bury her face in against his stomach with a soft hiccup, wrapping her arms around him as best she can with the sheer relief of not being alone. Of still being here, despite it all.]
Morning... [And this time, for once, it's her voice that cracks. He hadn't slept at all, huh? Or if he had, barely any. He'd stayed here with her just like he'd promised. Her laugh is watery and muffled against him as she adds with obvious affection,] You look terrible.
[Her way of saying she'd noticed what he'd done, and she appreciates it more than she can ever say.]
no subject
She rolls over to bury her face in against his stomach with a soft hiccup, wrapping her arms around him as best she can with the sheer relief of not being alone. Of still being here, despite it all.]
Morning... [And this time, for once, it's her voice that cracks. He hadn't slept at all, huh? Or if he had, barely any. He'd stayed here with her just like he'd promised. Her laugh is watery and muffled against him as she adds with obvious affection,] You look terrible.
[Her way of saying she'd noticed what he'd done, and she appreciates it more than she can ever say.]