[ he feels the sun on his face, its warmth, and it makes him smile. he feels the breaking of something under his arm, at his side, and something just as small, odd and lumpy and foreign, catches somewhere in the general vicinity of his throat.
tipping his head down, he loops his arm around sharp, shaking shoulders with a certain sort of care, like he's loathe to disrupt the storm raging under sickness-pale skin. but the embrace is there, however light, that unspoken assurance hanging heavy between them, in the minute space left over.
i'm here, the arm around thin shoulder says. it'll be fine. ]
Re: action mofo
tipping his head down, he loops his arm around sharp, shaking shoulders with a certain sort of care, like he's loathe to disrupt the storm raging under sickness-pale skin. but the embrace is there, however light, that unspoken assurance hanging heavy between them, in the minute space left over.
i'm here, the arm around thin shoulder says. it'll be fine. ]