an angel kissing on a sinner, tessa

[thomas]

and I'm the kind of love it hurts to look at, but once I was enough to make you try
now, I'm underneath the rubble, trying not to feel the trouble.

He wants to believe her.
So fiercely he wants to believe that some day he will expand his horizons beyond the meadow or the playground where he made a friend once.
But he knows they are nothing more than pipe dreams.
Even if he had the ability to travel, he would never have the courage.

He smiles now and he nods. He allows himself to buy into the fantasy. He and his sister, taking on the whole world. He imagines plunging himself into the sea and sinking like a stone. He imagines clawing his way up the sides of mountains. He imagines galloping, carefree, across vast meadows. He smiles and he believes it. Just for now.

She touches him and he revels in her warmth. The softness of the mouth she presses against the cold edge of his jaw. He closes his eyes briefly before he forces them open again, anxiety twisting in the pit of his gut at the thought of a misstep that might make him shatter.

She laughs and he laughs along. It is not teasing laughter, but mirthful. He laughs and it sounds like relief. They will see the whole world together. He can do anything with her by his side.

He tilts his head, gingerly stepping over a divet in the ground. “The ocean,” he says and he glances up long enough to conjure a small whitecapped wave on the turf in front of them. It crashes into the earth and is immediately gone. He laughs. “Do you think it’s warm or cold?”

THOMAS

— and you don't care for me enough to cry —