[It's an almost physical relief to be allowed to drift into her space. There's a moment of slight wobbling, when his impulse to sit on the floor rather than where she's indicated almost takes hold of him, but in the end he manages to sit in a slightly disorganized pile of limbs on the edge of the bed.
(He's used to being alone. He's used to having things taken from him--usually in a far harsher and more final fashion than this. Why does this particular sensation ache so much?)
It takes a moment, but his fingers do creep hesitantly forward, half-searching for hers to hold onto for a few heartbeats.]
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(He's used to being alone. He's used to having things taken from him--usually in a far harsher and more final fashion than this. Why does this particular sensation ache so much?)
It takes a moment, but his fingers do creep hesitantly forward, half-searching for hers to hold onto for a few heartbeats.]