For twelve hours we held each other.
He held me close.
He held me tight.
With nothing to fear but my own mind and my convulsing body,
I wasn't afraid. I'd been here before. He hadn't.
He held my hands, he held my *******. He was warm when I was cold.
I clawed at his body and nibbled on his hand when it was necessary.
He wrapped me up in himself and squeezed me tighter.
He kissed me like in the way I imagine I would pick up an injured bird.
We kissed and then stayed there, lips overlapping, breathing into one another.
He put his hand around my neck and applied pressure. Not too much.
We slept. We woke. We tossed and turned but always together.
We talked.
I traced invisible words on his arm with my finger. He couldn't guess.
His eyes were kind and his lips were soft and tasty, even after twelve hours when my lips were cracked an my nose was blocked with last nights fun.
He held me tight and squeezed me like the way you squeeze your mum when she's dropping you off at brownie camp and you really don't wanna go cause they are all ******* and you've never spent a night away from home and you don't want to go, you've changed your mind and you just want to stay with your mum and you don't want to lose your mum and you don't want her to leave, so you're not letting her go for anything, you're squeezing her tight like a vice so she cant undo you.
Held each other tight like there was something coming to pull us apart. For twelve hours we held each other.