“ I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SAY THIS without sounding cruel. ” yes, they do, but the words are difficult to find around the knots in their throat, the tightness in their chest. somewhere wrapped in starlight their heart is aching. somewhere, they blame their nerves on the unstable nature of the stars.
SABINE IS NOT A CAGE. they’re the hands releasing pigeon from a magic hat, the moment between one breath and the inevitable fall. but there’s something about hands which have always felt like manacles around howl’s wrists. pinning their pulse down to the earth. to all that would break the starlight from their bones. ( i’m not a star, stop thinking in metaphors. i’m a person and i’m afraid of my lover’s hands ) they’re not a star, just everything left behind in a cosmic explosion that only wants to return to the sky. hands and earth and skin --- it’s not them. never has been. hands scrub across howl’s face and through their hair. a heavy sigh past parted lips. “ i don’t think this will work. that is --- i don’t think i can work in... in this. i want to but i --- i’ve never been able to before. be this close to someone for so long. i don’t think i can. ” / @phoenixial
