She does not strike him down, the way that he expects. The way that he deserves.
It always amazes him when he is able to spend these quiet moments with her, when she gives him these pieces of her attention—of her time. It feels like being able to hold the sun to his chest. Like being able to swallow the very stars into his chest, more so than the simple markings that are blazoned on it.
And he does not take it for granted.
Not for a single moment.
But he does sit quietly in her presence, taking each of these moments and tucking them away closely into the very core of him. He nods as she turns her attention to the sky above them and he looks at her for a moment longer, studying the delicate, fierce lines of her face, before he too looks at the cosmos.
“I belong here,” he says, hesitant to contradict her but hoping his attention would be clear.
“With you,” he clarifies, hopeful that his meaning would be known.
Another pause as he chews on the words, trying to make out the meaning beneath the surface. There was always that with her—something underneath the words. Something clever and poignant. Something that cuts under the syllables and twists a sentence into something new entirely. He had no idea how she did that. How she managed to make something old into something different. How she did anything she does.
“But I will belong wherever you tell me to belong.”
turn your head toward the storm that’s surely coming along