Imagine being devoted to Michael and one night you’re having a hard time, everything is too much and you decide to ask him for one thing. You poke your head into his door and he allows you to come in. He senses you’re in pain and sees you struggling, head cast down, tears in your eyes, fingers clasped together tightly. It concerns him. You’re usually bubbly, bright and attentive.
He tilts your chin up and his voice is soft. You’ve been so loyal to him that he respects you and wants to help you.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Because to him, you have the sweetest of hearts, pure and devoted. He wants you to open up to him, unafraid. He can’t bear your fear of him, not you.
You hesitate. You want to hold him but yet, you need his strength to protect you. So you don’t bullshit, facing his blue eyes. “Will you please hold me? I just need you to hold me.”
He’s stunned, honored, such a simple request for human contact, an act of the upmost trust. You sought him out for comfort. No one has before. You’re staring at him, worried you’ve asked too much, that he won’t want this intimacy with you. It’s then that he opens his hand, palm up for you.
“Come here,” He says, coercing you into his chest.
You let his heartbeat anchor you, his scent stroke you. He seels you in tight.
“It’s alright to let go with me. I’ve got you.”
And when your tears lessen, you look up at him, chin pressed to his chest. He’s watching you, the softest, genuine smile pressing his lips. Something more is shifting between you both. Walls fall, dynamics change. You’re meeting his feather light kiss, breaking apart only to breathe in each other.
Toad's Cave 