[ He leans into her touch, as he always does -- it's real and physical, and sometimes he doesn't realize how touch-starved he is between their visits with one another until she's there and whole.
So he reaches up, holds her hand there against his cheek, closes his eyes, and breathes. He tells himself things will be okay. He needs to work harder at normality, push down his stupid anxiety and fears, and everything else will fall back into place. ]
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So he reaches up, holds her hand there against his cheek, closes his eyes, and breathes. He tells himself things will be okay. He needs to work harder at normality, push down his stupid anxiety and fears, and everything else will fall back into place. ]
It's fine. I'll follow your lead.