the statement came out without thought ( like most of his statements ), & he had half the mind to HIT himself. so many OTHER sentences, so many OTHER settings, but he chose to say that HERE in all places. the least romantic place in the least romantic way possible. she deserved SOMETHING better than this, he knows. maybe even someone better than him.
though her reply was NOT as expected. hitting, yelling, insults were all expected. not questions that held such melancholy within them. melancholy that HE caused, & could never take back no matter how much he wanted to.
❝ cecelia. ❞ a whisper of her name is all he let out first, CAUTIOUS hands reaching for her. a PAIN shoots up his arm from the wound, but he ignored it in favor of her. in favor of the feeling of her soft cheek in his hands; a feeling he missed so DEARLY though didn’t deserve. oh, how hard he was willing to work to once again deserve that feeling.
❝ i wanted, more than ANYTHING , to go back for you. begged to. ❞ words are still not much above a whisper, words he wanted just for her ears, as a calloused thumb brushed her cheekbone. ❝ i love you. ❞
Hearing her name spoken so softly to her, her heart began to ache. Both it and the spirit within her almost reached for him, searching for that familiar comfort. It was hard to ignore the amplification of love she felt whenever the spirit would react to him. It remembered the love that they shared and so, it always kept her tethered to him whenever he was nearby. Gods, but that made it harder to avoid the man — or to remain angry at him.
She felt his touch and her hands clenched, she still could not bear to face him just yet. That kind of touch, he never shared with others. Not in Kirkwall, and not in the tavern. All the things she had seen him do with others, they were never that gentle and calculated, never that affectionate. That was a touch saved for her. Gods, how she missed it. She would have been lying if she said that she did not wish for it every time he had come to see her.
Finally finding it in her to look at him, she slowly turned and met his eyes with her own glossy blues. Her face almost leaned into the touch briefly, before her face contorted into anger. “Gods—” Cecelia shoved him away with her hands, “—damn you, Hawke, what on earth do I do with that?” she asked, a tear falling freely. She stepped forward and slammed her hands against him again, though it was more to strike his chest than to push. “I waited, gods damn it, I waited, I— if I’d known the truth, I would have burned my way to you and I would have found you right away. I would have...” She struck his chest again out of frustration before wrapping her arms around him tightly and burying her face into the crook of his neck.
“I could have found you.”
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