[She's still a little absorbed in everything going on with her brain and her feelings, so she doesn't see as his expression changes. But she feels it. The warmth of the happiness that overtakes him. It's like a balm for the anxiety that the incomplete memories are slowly stirring up. It's just soothing.
This is out of order, she realizes, but — that's suddenly not nearly as important as his happiness and seeing whatever made him that happy. And. Well. It's easier to focus on this, anyway.
It hits her like a bludgeon within the first stanza: this is a love poem. The tips of her fingers brush the paper as she reads and almost, faintly, just barely remembers as she impressed her love upon the page with each letter. Her face starts to burn with a fierce blush about halfway through, but she doesn't realize it, too caught up in the fond fuzziness that's gradually forming itself into...moments. Not the whole thing, but moments.
She reads through the notes, but again, it feels unnecessary. In fact, it brings her more questions than answers (Sex Pistols? Shadowdale? A lot of stuff happened between us, but what?) Despite that, she's still more preoccupied with the echoing fondness in her chest which gets stronger as it reverberates through her.
Eventually, it bubbles out of her in a kind of watery laugh, and she says with some revelation:] You kissed me when I showed you this one.
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This is out of order, she realizes, but — that's suddenly not nearly as important as his happiness and seeing whatever made him that happy. And. Well. It's easier to focus on this, anyway.
It hits her like a bludgeon within the first stanza: this is a love poem. The tips of her fingers brush the paper as she reads and almost, faintly, just barely remembers as she impressed her love upon the page with each letter. Her face starts to burn with a fierce blush about halfway through, but she doesn't realize it, too caught up in the fond fuzziness that's gradually forming itself into...moments. Not the whole thing, but moments.
She reads through the notes, but again, it feels unnecessary. In fact, it brings her more questions than answers (Sex Pistols? Shadowdale? A lot of stuff happened between us, but what?) Despite that, she's still more preoccupied with the echoing fondness in her chest which gets stronger as it reverberates through her.
Eventually, it bubbles out of her in a kind of watery laugh, and she says with some revelation:] You kissed me when I showed you this one.