[When she twists to dodge it freezes him for an instant: he comes to an abrupt halt, close enough to her face to feel her breath, all the anticipation he'd been building up stuttering out like a firework that's failed to launch. Her hands are on his cheeks, and then her lips, and --
Did he read this wrong, or did he do something wrong? Misinterpretation, or misstep? A kind of panic that is depressingly familiar from other times he's completely failed a social interaction rises up in him like gorge, and he fights it, hard, but that thought thumps against his brain as his heart thumps against his ribs. How has he fucked up this time?
But asking would be admitting that he'd expected something, even if it was nothing serious. If it's a matter of having misread, his panicky brain insists that admitting as much would be as good as bearing his throat to a predator. He'll be mocked, or summarily shut down, or... who knows. So he pulls back once her lips part from his cheek, perhaps a little too fast.]
Well...
well there you are. Debt paid.
[But he can't quite dampen the look of dismay edged with hurt that colors his expression. What did he do wrong?]
no subject
Did he read this wrong, or did he do something wrong? Misinterpretation, or misstep? A kind of panic that is depressingly familiar from other times he's completely failed a social interaction rises up in him like gorge, and he fights it, hard, but that thought thumps against his brain as his heart thumps against his ribs. How has he fucked up this time?
But asking would be admitting that he'd expected something, even if it was nothing serious. If it's a matter of having misread, his panicky brain insists that admitting as much would be as good as bearing his throat to a predator. He'll be mocked, or summarily shut down, or... who knows. So he pulls back once her lips part from his cheek, perhaps a little too fast.]
Well...
well there you are. Debt paid.
[But he can't quite dampen the look of dismay edged with hurt that colors his expression. What did he do wrong?]