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It’s odd, but when Newt announces that he’s taken a job in Tokyo- Hermann finds he doesn’t care at all. No, not that he doesn’t care. That is doesn’t mean anything. As thought Newt were telling him he was going to work down the road, and ten thousand miles between Japan and England is just… nothing.
And when the day comes when they part at the airport, there are no hugs, no sad words goodbye. Newt gives him a slightly puzzled smile, “I’ll- be in touch, I guess.”
“Of course.” Hermann smiles back, and although their bodies walk away, to the disparate boarding gates and their separate flights- most of them doesn’t move. Still there, still close. The thrum of their heartbeats comforting in their ears, the touch of their breath. Like a hand so close as to touch hair, but not quite skin, not there, but there in all the ways that count.
Hermann smiles and closes his eyes as the plane hums and picks up speed. Newt’s must be taking off by now too- the world growing between them, the miles growing wide-
And meaningless, when it’s the work of a thought to reach out through the entangled strands of their minds, and touch, so close, so warm.
He doesn’t try and talk, there is nothing to say- to cheapen with warms. Just the pleasure of being together, the comfort of their living drift.
The flight is really bumpy- Newt comments.
Shh. Hermann sighs. So much for that.
It’s odd, but when Newt announces that he’s taken a job in Tokyo- Hermann finds he doesn’t care at all. No, not that he doesn’t care. That is doesn’t mean anything. As thought Newt were telling him he was going to work down the road, and ten thousand miles between Japan and England is just… nothing.
And when the day comes when they part at the airport, there are no hugs, no sad words goodbye. Newt gives him a slightly puzzled smile, “I’ll- be in touch, I guess.”
“Of course.” Hermann smiles back, and although their bodies walk away, to the disparate boarding gates and their separate flights- most of them doesn’t move. Still there, still close. The thrum of their heartbeats comforting in their ears, the touch of their breath. Like a hand so close as to touch hair, but not quite skin, not there, but there in all the ways that count.
Hermann smiles and closes his eyes as the plane hums and picks up speed. Newt’s must be taking off by now too- the world growing between them, the miles growing wide-
And meaningless, when it’s the work of a thought to reach out through the entangled strands of their minds, and touch, so close, so warm.
He doesn’t try and talk, there is nothing to say- to cheapen with warms. Just the pleasure of being together, the comfort of their living drift.
The flight is really bumpy- Newt comments.
Shh. Hermann sighs. So much for that.