[ Absent fingers run over his shoulder, dip close to his neck, just casual enough to pass for idle movement. It can be counted as a familiar facet of Gaelio's personality. He touches others casually.
McGillis still has trouble pinpointing the exact moments he began to change his opinion on the habit. The iterations of changes were slow, gradual, but many. Shifting over the years, beginning with cold contempt and suspicion, somehow ending in repressed satisfaction. Even after setting Gaelio down, McGillis recalls the shape of a thumbprint peppering the dip above his collar.
It has been dreamlike. He has the vague notion that he might be in one (since it isn't his, and since-), recalling details like the redness of Gaelio's skin and the ghost of his touch as exaggerations of a dreamlike atmosphere.
As close as they remain, he catches that inhale. He wonders what would've been said, what words would've escaped his lips that Gaelio deemed necessary to tamp down.
What has remained unsaid between them, in the length of time they've known each other? It could fill oceans. A condition that worsened the longer they ignored it, without managing to split them apart entirely.
As close as they remain, their hands remain on each other a beat too long. McGillis watches blue eyes evading his, the fascinating details of his features -- and with the distraction of that phrasing, his own mouth closes tight, on a thin line.
A corpse in his arms.
Why does it always feel that way?
I'll be lonely without you, and fingers sweeping again with detail that sits precise at the front of his mind, palm heavy at his back. It's dreamlike.
It's simple enough to tilt forward and graze his lips against a landing area of temple. An absent press. ]
Don't speak as if I'll never return.
[ Absent murmur, and indulging more as the dream dips into indulgences, while hands lift from him and he lifts back to stand straight, his palms pass as heavy and squeeze to cup the back of Gaelio's neck before letting go.
Carefully relinquishing the hold, a smile flits to his lips before he turns on his heel. A smile both fragile and small, shielding back something darker that presses at the door. ]
no subject
McGillis still has trouble pinpointing the exact moments he began to change his opinion on the habit. The iterations of changes were slow, gradual, but many. Shifting over the years, beginning with cold contempt and suspicion, somehow ending in repressed satisfaction. Even after setting Gaelio down, McGillis recalls the shape of a thumbprint peppering the dip above his collar.
It has been dreamlike. He has the vague notion that he might be in one (since it isn't his, and since-), recalling details like the redness of Gaelio's skin and the ghost of his touch as exaggerations of a dreamlike atmosphere.
As close as they remain, he catches that inhale. He wonders what would've been said, what words would've escaped his lips that Gaelio deemed necessary to tamp down.
What has remained unsaid between them, in the length of time they've known each other? It could fill oceans. A condition that worsened the longer they ignored it, without managing to split them apart entirely.
As close as they remain, their hands remain on each other a beat too long. McGillis watches blue eyes evading his, the fascinating details of his features -- and with the distraction of that phrasing, his own mouth closes tight, on a thin line.
A corpse in his arms.
Why does it always feel that way?
I'll be lonely without you, and fingers sweeping again with detail that sits precise at the front of his mind, palm heavy at his back. It's dreamlike.
It's simple enough to tilt forward and graze his lips against a landing area of temple. An absent press. ]
Don't speak as if I'll never return.
[ Absent murmur, and indulging more as the dream dips into indulgences, while hands lift from him and he lifts back to stand straight, his palms pass as heavy and squeeze to cup the back of Gaelio's neck before letting go.
Carefully relinquishing the hold, a smile flits to his lips before he turns on his heel. A smile both fragile and small, shielding back something darker that presses at the door. ]
I'll be quick. Everything will be fine.
[ What masterful lies.
And he goes. ]