(Follow-up to this.) 

Her fingers interlace with his, and though they’re alone, the entire world seems to stop, breathless, waiting to see what comes next. She does not want to spook him, not when he has finally gathered the courage to reach for her, but these past months have given her a reckless hum in the back of her mind, and he makes her want to give into it, so she tentatively leans forward. His arms come around her slowly, uncertainly, as if he has forgotten what a hug is meant to feel like, but he does not pull away, and neither does she. 

(Fits in the ‘verse of this.)

He has a sweet tooth. 

It’s a silly thing to be amused by, and shouldn’t come close to balancing out the things he has done, but when his eyes light up at her homemade cookies-when he devours half a chocolate bar in one bite-when he beams at her over apple pie and ice cream-

Well, she has always played by her own rules, anyway. 

He reminds her of the stray cat she adopted as a little girl: he shows up without warning, refuses to let her within arms’ length, and refuses to leave her alone. 

At first, it bothers her, but she recognizes the loneliness in his eyes reflected in her soul, and so she begins to treat him as she did the cat: she speaks to him gently without reaching for him (speaks of stars and science and silly childhood tales, and watches his eyes soften in turn), offers him food (the first time she sees him smile is over a slice of homemade pie), and waits for him to bridge the gap. 

One day, without warning, he does: he holds out his hand, waiting-breath caught-until her fingers interlace with his.