[Her hand on his is like holding the song of the Fade.
The music of home hums on his palm, spreading across his skin, so bright that it blocks out all the mental noise around him, and he's hit with a bittersweet stab of nostalgia.
Unconsciously, he practically melts, relaxing significantly against her and grasping her hand tightly, keeping it close now that he's been given implicit permission to touch it.
Yes. If he closes his eyes, it's almost like he's home.]
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The music of home hums on his palm, spreading across his skin, so bright that it blocks out all the mental noise around him, and he's hit with a bittersweet stab of nostalgia.
Unconsciously, he practically melts, relaxing significantly against her and grasping her hand tightly, keeping it close now that he's been given implicit permission to touch it.
Yes. If he closes his eyes, it's almost like he's home.]