( there's no response, and it's a tell of it's own, every minute between the last message she'd sent and the startling clamor of the buzzer dragging madly, infinitely on.
she has to convince herself to the door, cursing beneath her breath at herself. at the cowardice, at how pathetically she's kept herself bound, allowing him to unravel her within the span of a single night. but there will always be that thing within her that calls to him, that needs to feel him broad and alive beneath the heat of her palms. to run her gaze over him and see for herself that he's okay, stirring within her refusing to quiet until then. she tells herself that's all it is, that it's all this is.
she's crossing to the door donned in nothing more than an old t-shirt and a pair of lounge sweats, a single window in the living area perched despite the chill of the city, and the rest of the apartment is exactly how he'd remember it. an ever-constant scatter of books and papers, an unmade bed, his silhouette in her doorway.
and when she sees him she can't stop the tremble in her fingers, how this doesn't feel at all like the last time, or the time before that, the slightest furrow of a brow. )
Hey. ( a hushed breath, tucking hair behind her ear, keeping hands busy before it dawns on her she's yet to open the door properly. ) Ah. Come in.
no subject
she has to convince herself to the door, cursing beneath her breath at herself. at the cowardice, at how pathetically she's kept herself bound, allowing him to unravel her within the span of a single night. but there will always be that thing within her that calls to him, that needs to feel him broad and alive beneath the heat of her palms. to run her gaze over him and see for herself that he's okay, stirring within her refusing to quiet until then. she tells herself that's all it is, that it's all this is.
she's crossing to the door donned in nothing more than an old t-shirt and a pair of lounge sweats, a single window in the living area perched despite the chill of the city, and the rest of the apartment is exactly how he'd remember it. an ever-constant scatter of books and papers, an unmade bed, his silhouette in her doorway.
and when she sees him she can't stop the tremble in her fingers, how this doesn't feel at all like the last time, or the time before that, the slightest furrow of a brow. )
Hey. ( a hushed breath, tucking hair behind her ear, keeping hands busy before it dawns on her she's yet to open the door properly. ) Ah. Come in.