[It does feel like an eternity, that moment where Alec doesn’t seem to respond. But even then, Henry cannot accept that as the reality. He won’t. His kiss is persistent, and unflagging, and yes, nearly desperate. His heart thrums so hard in his chest that he hears it drumming in his ears, and every muscle in his body is tight, working in-tandem to keep him upright and not ruin what feels like his one chance at making this right.
And then Alec gasps against his kiss, and Henry can’t know if it’s working, but something is working, and there it is again: hope, a thing that never settles comfortably in a man like him, but he clings to it all the same today.
He almost says something. But he doesn’t need to. Alec fingers are curling into his shirt, pulling him closer if such a thing were possible, and he’s kissing him back.
(Relief pounds at the walls of his mind, eager to overcome him. But he bars its entry for now — he can’t let it in, not just yet, not before he needs to ask:)]
Do you still— [Messy, low utterances against the other’s lips. If he sounds pitiable, for once, he doesn’t care.] Do you still want me, Alec?
no subject
And then Alec gasps against his kiss, and Henry can’t know if it’s working, but something is working, and there it is again: hope, a thing that never settles comfortably in a man like him, but he clings to it all the same today.
He almost says something. But he doesn’t need to. Alec fingers are curling into his shirt, pulling him closer if such a thing were possible, and he’s kissing him back.
(Relief pounds at the walls of his mind, eager to overcome him. But he bars its entry for now — he can’t let it in, not just yet, not before he needs to ask:)]
Do you still— [Messy, low utterances against the other’s lips. If he sounds pitiable, for once, he doesn’t care.] Do you still want me, Alec?