[For a while everything is good, better than good really. His head is returned, there's wind in his face, and his boyfriend's (that's still such a novel word, boyfriend) arms about his waist. Really, he couldn't be happier.
But the longer he thinks about things, the less excellent he realizes things are. The first two are fine, yes, but what he had taken for mere closeness feels far more like a vice grip when he gives it more than half a thought.
They aren't home yet, close but not quite there, but he peals into an empty ally and lays on the breaks nonetheless. When they're finally stopped, he twists in his seat to try to look back at James. Invisibility hampers that, and so he reaches a hand out and fumbles along the reaper's arm until he's able to get a good, steadying grip.]
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But the longer he thinks about things, the less excellent he realizes things are. The first two are fine, yes, but what he had taken for mere closeness feels far more like a vice grip when he gives it more than half a thought.
They aren't home yet, close but not quite there, but he peals into an empty ally and lays on the breaks nonetheless. When they're finally stopped, he twists in his seat to try to look back at James. Invisibility hampers that, and so he reaches a hand out and fumbles along the reaper's arm until he's able to get a good, steadying grip.]
Hey. Talk to me.