... his concern, incited by your foreboding question; let the little warmth that housed you under from the evening chill whisper to you all his intentions.
"Are you?" Please, don't be. This had been a good evening, it was a good thing, but our son wasn't so naive to not be ...
Beneath the dim moonlight, amidst this idyllic sequence, his mind floated above to a space of contentment. As long as you were here, @halfgrief, he could smile and laugh and exist. Just like tonight. This had been a good evening—it was a good thing.
... but the landscape afore extended its invitation of freedom, and he couldn't help but wanting to swing your arm and see the hem of your dress twirl, grand and elegant even if you didn't think of it as such.
"I'll go wherever you go, Medea."
... casted aside as his index finger brushed the tip of his nose, flowers blooming in his stomach. "Doesn't feel that long to me since then, but it probably has been, huh?" His school days had been so, so mundane, so ordinarily heartening with you as part of it, @halfgrief.
... kinda impossible in there."
At your mention, he properly perceived the situation then. Shoulders next to one another, warmth radiating close, hands that could meet with a little slither nearby—a memory of a feathery touch on his lips.
"Right," his bashfulness was ...
... closed doors. "You look beautiful tonight, @halfgrief," the immersion of that genuine compliment didn't linger for long, for his face morphed into the red of shame. "I mean—! You're always beautiful! But tonight is specially different... you know?"
... outside the building. Leading the way and using his body as a shield reminded him of their first meeting.
"There we go," your smile was at last returned, his eyes turning into crescents at the gorgeous look he could finally discern once everything else was muffled by ...