[It's usually difficult for him to stop talking, to let a moment go by silently without filling it with some kind of chatter, but he's silent here, made silent by the way she's pressing slightly closer, perhaps, or just lulled into silence by the rhythm they seem to have found. She feels so delicate, and he still wonders so many things about her, but he knows he's never going to have the chance to discover them.
Maybe that's for the best.
It's hard to tell how long their dance goes on, because they're not paying attention to the music, not following along with what everyone else inside is very likely doing, and for what feels like a considerable period of time, he's content to just move with her, trying not to think about all the things he's going to need to do soon. This has been an unexpected and enjoyable distraction, but he'll be back to the real world quickly enough.
And then, finally, when the dance seems to have come to an end -- he's not sure why, but the time feels right for it, and he's always been so guided by impulse and instinct -- he does bend down, just for a moment, to press a kiss to her forehead before letting go of her waist. It's gentle, and almost, almost sweet, in a strange way.]
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Maybe that's for the best.
It's hard to tell how long their dance goes on, because they're not paying attention to the music, not following along with what everyone else inside is very likely doing, and for what feels like a considerable period of time, he's content to just move with her, trying not to think about all the things he's going to need to do soon. This has been an unexpected and enjoyable distraction, but he'll be back to the real world quickly enough.
And then, finally, when the dance seems to have come to an end -- he's not sure why, but the time feels right for it, and he's always been so guided by impulse and instinct -- he does bend down, just for a moment, to press a kiss to her forehead before letting go of her waist. It's gentle, and almost, almost sweet, in a strange way.]
Thanks.