[He feels it too, the way the world lurches to a halt for a few passing seconds. His face brought closer by the motion, revealing what he’s certain is a pink color creeping across Ferdinand’s skin, eyes widening in visible surprise. And Hubert, for all he can honestly appreciate the view, is hit with one terrible, utterly undeniable realization — that this was a mistake.
Because he can feel it all across his body, snaking out towards his limbs, that distracting tingle of traitorous excitement. The way he has to swallow hard to remind himself to breathe, as if air had hitched in his throat, unnoticed. His jaw sets tight, his fingers curl into the fabric of Ferdinand’s jacket, and the music crawls on despite their pause.]
…Yes.
[Surprised him and himself, no doubt. In a way that Hubert had not quite prepared nor accounted for.
He had always been the sort to rule with his head over his heart, and he flat-out refuses to let his heart take the reins for now. Whatever this feeling is may pass, a thing to be laughed about (or better yet, ignored) at a later date. For now, to indulge himself in it would be misleading and, frankly, is a little disconcerting, therefore the taller man only straightens, hoisting the both of them up.
But he doesn’t continue the dance, though the music would dictate them to. Instead, he detaches himself from Ferdinand and turns his look over to where a stray silken ribbon flutters uselessly in the breeze, caught against the rose bushes.]
That’s enough for one evening, I think. Consider me impressed.
[Don’t mind him as he walks over to where the ribbon is, plucking it free with gloved hands, then turns to face Ferdinand again. He holds it out with expectation, if the man wants it returned.]
no subject
Because he can feel it all across his body, snaking out towards his limbs, that distracting tingle of traitorous excitement. The way he has to swallow hard to remind himself to breathe, as if air had hitched in his throat, unnoticed. His jaw sets tight, his fingers curl into the fabric of Ferdinand’s jacket, and the music crawls on despite their pause.]
…Yes.
[Surprised him and himself, no doubt. In a way that Hubert had not quite prepared nor accounted for.
He had always been the sort to rule with his head over his heart, and he flat-out refuses to let his heart take the reins for now. Whatever this feeling is may pass, a thing to be laughed about (or better yet, ignored) at a later date. For now, to indulge himself in it would be misleading and, frankly, is a little disconcerting, therefore the taller man only straightens, hoisting the both of them up.
But he doesn’t continue the dance, though the music would dictate them to. Instead, he detaches himself from Ferdinand and turns his look over to where a stray silken ribbon flutters uselessly in the breeze, caught against the rose bushes.]
That’s enough for one evening, I think. Consider me impressed.
[Don’t mind him as he walks over to where the ribbon is, plucking it free with gloved hands, then turns to face Ferdinand again. He holds it out with expectation, if the man wants it returned.]
A victory to add to your tally.