[ He watches Treavor, wishing he would come back. Stay close. Maybe rest his head and feel that warm breeze, and the gentle sway of the hammock, and how their hearts seem to beat together at different rhythms, but in harmony.
Treavor is chaotic. All hurry and flight and go, running from moment to moment (like a rabbit, bouncing ever on and on) (what is he running from?) Maybe what he needs is a reminder that this place is (home) (safe) somewhere he can stop and linger a while, without all that spinning out. (Is that why he drinks? All that anxiety, all that nervous energy, and the things hounding him. Hunting him.) (Alice would like to protect him.)
A smile emerges from his pensive regard at the touch of a finger to his nose, and lazily, he extricates his arm to catch that hand in his own. To hold it at the level of his heart and think -
Mine.
It would be nice.
It is. Nice.
Whatever they are together, whatever this might mean for Alice's future and the folder on his desk with the five year plan inside it, the ten year plan, the possibility of disinheritance -
(He'll lose everything. If he does this wrong. If he isn't careful.)
(But right now. Everything feels okay.)
Everything feels okay with Treavor, who just asked about being his Bunny like being that means something else, and Alice's stomach is fluttering again.
They should talk about that sometime. Something to think about when he's sober.
Without evading the eyes that drew him in and captivated him while sitting by the harbor (he could drown, or maybe did drown, or maybe his eyes are blue and Treavor's are black because those are the colors of skies at different hours and this isn't drowning, but flying), he draws Treavor's hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the backs of his fingers. ]
That's not for me to decide.
[ He turns Treavor's hand, examining it, looking at its perfection, and then, bolder now having kissed once, kisses again into his palm. ]
But I'd like you to be. Maybe I can show you just how special you are.
[ His chin is down, his attention on another kiss, lingering, and Alice feeling daft and flirtatious and untroubled - eyes raised with their drowsy, come-hither interest to Treavor's once more.
And his voice lowers an octave as he whispers, as though an important secret's being imparted. ]
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Treavor is chaotic. All hurry and flight and go, running from moment to moment (like a rabbit, bouncing ever on and on) (what is he running from?) Maybe what he needs is a reminder that this place is (home) (safe) somewhere he can stop and linger a while, without all that spinning out. (Is that why he drinks? All that anxiety, all that nervous energy, and the things hounding him. Hunting him.) (Alice would like to protect him.)
A smile emerges from his pensive regard at the touch of a finger to his nose, and lazily, he extricates his arm to catch that hand in his own. To hold it at the level of his heart and think -
Mine.
It would be nice.
It is. Nice.
Whatever they are together, whatever this might mean for Alice's future and the folder on his desk with the five year plan inside it, the ten year plan, the possibility of disinheritance -
(He'll lose everything. If he does this wrong. If he isn't careful.)
(But right now. Everything feels okay.)
Everything feels okay with Treavor, who just asked about being his Bunny like being that means something else, and Alice's stomach is fluttering again.
They should talk about that sometime. Something to think about when he's sober.
Without evading the eyes that drew him in and captivated him while sitting by the harbor (he could drown, or maybe did drown, or maybe his eyes are blue and Treavor's are black because those are the colors of skies at different hours and this isn't drowning, but flying), he draws Treavor's hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the backs of his fingers. ]
That's not for me to decide.
[ He turns Treavor's hand, examining it, looking at its perfection, and then, bolder now having kissed once, kisses again into his palm. ]
But I'd like you to be. Maybe I can show you just how special you are.
[ His chin is down, his attention on another kiss, lingering, and Alice feeling daft and flirtatious and untroubled - eyes raised with their drowsy, come-hither interest to Treavor's once more.
And his voice lowers an octave as he whispers, as though an important secret's being imparted. ]
I'd take very good care of my Bunny.