[ She knows the words without having to hear them - and her tired old hesrt clenches tight under her ribs right on cue. It’s a strange, conflicted mess of feelings she always gets - that instinct towards fight or flight, some part of her that always wants to insist that he shouldn’t - and at the same time, this overwhelming reciprocation, a warmth that fills her and lingers after the words have been formed. Unconsciously, the hand over his heart tenses slightly, her fingertips digging into the fabric of his shirt - betraying, in some minute way, that conflict she feels.
He almost died. He should hear her say it back. Even if sometimes the words feel like glass in her throat - a painful truth. An acknowledgement that she has so much to lose.
Andy turns to bury her face against him, muffled and quiet when she answers: ]
no subject
He almost died. He should hear her say it back. Even if sometimes the words feel like glass in her throat - a painful truth. An acknowledgement that she has so much to lose.
Andy turns to bury her face against him, muffled and quiet when she answers: ]
I love you too.