There was a larger part of him that was almost done with it all, and simply wanted to shake it out of both of them. Be done with toeing about the fact, and ignoring the way words lingered and eyes strayed longer than necessary. Done with the way his palm still burned from a memory half a day ago from something unintended.
Instinctive.
Something the huntsman had dredged up from the depths of his chest through these last few months, and something he hadn't felt for half a lifetime.
Something that felt safe to be around. Comforting.
And whether or not it was the wretched sickness talking for him, Clover could certainly do with a little more of what was being held before him, just out of reach. If only the two of them would simply step forward and grasp it properly.
~~~
Day four also late but we stay silly, enjoy sickfic part two ♥ A direct sequel to the day two piece.
