— but to throw herself into his arms. her arms encircle him tightly. her face is close, so very close to his, enough to feel the warmth of her flesh. can he feel her, shaking like a leaf in his arms? she hopes he doesn’t mind.
“thank you,” she sobs. “thank you for trusting me.”
there he is.
the world is slowed, quiet, and soft. stella looks at solus, ( really ) looks at him, seeing him for the first time. the barriers are gone. the walls are broken. he’s here.
he’s here, and he’s ( everything ).
a soft cry escapes her, and she can’t help herself —
-
he found her presence comforting, aware of how close she was.
closer. reach out. please.
every word he wanted to say stopped short. with a shaky breath, he lowered the helmet and turned around, slowly.
a tired and hurt chiss stared at her with bright red teary eyes.
— relive. she wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“you don’t have to turn around,” she promises, shakily. “but know that you are safe here. here, in this place. with me.”
stella is quiet for a long time - not quite silent, no, for her own breath trembles near to being ragged from holding it so long. her heart breaks, and it * hurts.
perhaps she’s pushed too far, too much, too ( wanting ).
it reminds her far too much of days she needs not —
-
quiet, muffled sobs filled what little space was left between them, as he lay his head against it.
what had he done?
his breathing is shallow, trembling, as he shakes his head.
together.
stella freezes. her heartbeat has never been so loud in her ears as it is now. her jaw is tense. her breath is held.
the hiss of decompression hits her like a ton of bricks. her nerves stand on end. it’s so hard to believe this is real, that it is not the dream of a —
— woman who is being trusted, who is being let in. this is new for her.
the helmet is lifted away, and she finally exhales, shaky - then she speaks.
“solus.”
a step forward, just one, and then she decides against moving further and allows only her hand to lift, reaching —