[ she doesn't need more than that, more than this. not now. she doesn't need a response or an answer; all she wants and needs is for him to stay. it's everything; it's enough. her eyes are full. the pressure of his fingers on her wrist uncoil something inside her. (she knows he would have pulled her hand away. she knows he won't, that he's not going to. it settles her, reassures her.) she moves forward, so close she remembers what it felt like to be against him. (not yet.) she pushes her fingertips into his hair and runs them down his neck, presses her palm to his chest.
her eyes have dropped, but now they lift to find his. it all seems so useless: thinking about what she should: about caroline, about sam (she can't, doesn't), about anything else, when all she wants, has been needing, is this moment. ]