( she doesn't want to pull out of it. it's the opposite, really — as his arms wrap around her, kimberly sinks into the embrace, her whole body crumpling in from the shoulders down as she lets her head rest into his shoulder. she's trying not to fall apart completely, but it's hard to resist the urge. it's only when he pulls away, hands shifting up to curl over her shoulders, that she manages to take in a deep, shuddering breath, nodding when she can't quite form the affirmative in words.
okay, the nods offer, and it's true. to an extent. she does believe him, if he says something, because he's never given her any reason to doubt his honesty. but believing him doesn't quite settle the unease in her stomach, or release the pent-up tears still demanding an outlet, so it's hard to do much more than blink and give a tight, unconvincing half-smile when he finally stops talking and looks at her for a response.
she'd so much rather just hug him again. so she does, reaching out to pull him back in to another embrace, this one a bit firmer as she presses her face more insistently into the warmth of his chest. she knows he might not be able to hear the soft whimpers that slip out, but he's always been able to read her body language so much more easily — like the telltale shakes that echo as she finally, finally gives in to tears that quickly dampen the front of her borrowed shirt... and likely his, too, in the process.
just hold her for a minute, baby, until she's done. there's a silver lining in this sort of a cry, gratitude and sheer relief in just letting her own fears out and finding them at least somewhat unfounded. )
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okay, the nods offer, and it's true. to an extent. she does believe him, if he says something, because he's never given her any reason to doubt his honesty. but believing him doesn't quite settle the unease in her stomach, or release the pent-up tears still demanding an outlet, so it's hard to do much more than blink and give a tight, unconvincing half-smile when he finally stops talking and looks at her for a response.
she'd so much rather just hug him again. so she does, reaching out to pull him back in to another embrace, this one a bit firmer as she presses her face more insistently into the warmth of his chest. she knows he might not be able to hear the soft whimpers that slip out, but he's always been able to read her body language so much more easily — like the telltale shakes that echo as she finally, finally gives in to tears that quickly dampen the front of her borrowed shirt... and likely his, too, in the process.
just hold her for a minute, baby, until she's done. there's a silver lining in this sort of a cry, gratitude and sheer relief in just letting her own fears out and finding them at least somewhat unfounded. )