A simple touch (Amy/Eleven ficlet)
He hugs you like he wants to give you all his warmth, like he wants to spread what beauty and wonder he has met in his long life.
He lets himself be hugged like a child, like a lover, like the closest, deepest friend you’ve ever had: the one who knows your dream, who knows your heart and cherishes it, as something precious.
He touches you, delicate, reverent almost…or firm, matter of factly…manic even, when he sees everything, every action, moment in time, person at once.
He lets his body closer to yours, at times, when he lowers his guard, when he really can’t help it…and it’s forehead touching, the soft caress of his lips against your forehead, your shoulders brushing, your fingers twining as you run away. He talks to you…and his wisdom is soothing, his arrogance and cockiness drive you made, his kindness and warmth got under your skin…
He was your imaginary friend, once, and…he turned out to be so much more: your smile when you suddenly feel like crying, your brain when everything is too big and complicated and huge for you to catch up, your rock as you float in space, your heart - because he has two, he’s generous and he shares…- when yours feels too weak. He’s your truth when the lies you tell yourself, every day, become too much…and sometimes you suspect you are his.
He’s your lie, your biggest one, your biggest fantasy…and yet, his touch…it’s as real as the blood flowing into your veins, as the colors you see now, it’s as real as his hand blindly seeking yours and grasping the other night…century…life. He touches you and its simple act, these days, is vital…
He touches you and you think you might fall in love with him.
He whispers in your ear and his words soothe your soul. He takes you face in his hands, warm and soft and real…
He smiles and you smile and you know it’s already too late: you are in love with him.