[ You stopped hunting. You have a normal life. With him, and then they worked it out. No Apocalypse. And fruit loops. It's not anything he's ever thought about but he wants it. He wants it and his breath catches tight in his lungs around a shaky, gasping laugh. His head bows forward, leaning into the hand on your chest. ]
I am not—[ Breathe, man. Shit. No laughing. ]—unable.
[ He's not. He does love you. He's capable of it. ]
no subject
I am not—[ Breathe, man. Shit. No laughing. ]—unable.
[ He's not. He does love you. He's capable of it. ]