Perhaps Layla should have refrained from such random forms of affection, but she simply couldn’t help it. She had always been keen on expressing her emotions through simple gestures rather than by word of mouth, and tonight was no exception. Being in such close proximity to him felt surreal, as the lightest graze of his hand felt - foreign - almost. ‟You’d be surprised,” she whispered, ‟even the most insignificant and bizarre of things have the ability to be anything you want them to if you wish it to be so.” Her hand crawled up to the side of his face, and rather than responding with some sort of witty remark, Layla simply basked in the silence, cobalt hues locked on those of emerald green — ones she had grown to miss.
He felt a foreign feeling in the back of his gullet, felt his stomach rise instantly as if he’d been in total apprehension. Jasper would have admitted it if it weren’t for his small smile and calm demeanor. Confessing his disquiet would only worry her, being that he had collapsed on his front door the day she arrived. “Thatsounds like a line from a poem, babe. Did you get that out a book or something?” He teased, pressing a light kiss to her nose. Yet he knew what she had been attempting to do. She wanted the silence as much as he did, and it made him want to fulfill that yearning. One hand pulled her closer to his once gaunt physique, eyes cemented to her unmissable blue eyes. His eyes illustrated half of what he longed to say, spoke words that he was sure he wouldn’t say in the light of day.
