[Her cheeks are flushed, and she regrets it as soon as she says it—- It’s stupid, He’s not actually her—- She doesn’t even have time to finish the thought, before he’s stood.
He’s not mad. Or annoyed, or disappointed or—- anything bad. She bolts to meet him, throwing her arms around him. Her own heart is twisted with emotion, though she can’t quite name it until she’s pressed her face against him, trying not to cry.
no subject
He’s not mad. Or annoyed, or disappointed or—- anything bad. She bolts to meet him, throwing her arms around him. Her own heart is twisted with emotion, though she can’t quite name it until she’s pressed her face against him, trying not to cry.
Safe. That’s what this feeling is. ]