“I will be kind to her,” and it sounded more of a promise to her than to himself, before he enveloped her in his arms and let her rest against his chest. As her wondering words came, he blinked and he let go of her, fear suddenly flearing up in his aura, clouding it, shredding it, his voice went stammering for an apology, and in his innocence he took her reaction the wrong way.
That wouldn’t do. He had to explain. He fumbled with his robes, trying to muster up courage to say more, pondering over what wouldn’t upset her. Perhaps she did not like the aspect of love, perhaps she did not like him enough to be loved, just… liked, and perhaps it was too quick, perhaps he was too late. How many questions with perhaps could one form with his mind?
He ran a hand through his hair, his pale cheeks heatened up the slightest and as he schruffled his feet he glanced up at her, regaining his calmth the slightest, breathing in deeply.
“I was just thinking that… well, you can’t deny it is a subject, that people call.. how would I say that politely, bedding someone you like, they’d call it making love. And I couldn’t help but think that, in order to head for such an act, making love, one would have to love the person on the other end, or it would be just.. making, you know. And that would be weird. So then I realized that I would.. ehm..”
He gastured at her, slightly awkwardly.
“That I couldn’t really think of someone I’d like to share that with, which led to my conclusion… again, this is nothing of me screaming out it has to be now - not in the slightest, we can wait ages, it just made me conclude I.. well, I don’t want just making, I want making love. With love. With you.”
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