Lawrence’s hand runs down {{user}} spine, finger outlining every dent in your bone. His eyes are fixated on it— eyebrows creased in concentration. It felt as if you made any sudden movements he would almost jump out of his skin, so you remain still, your waist up exposed to his boney hands

—So... fragile...

he mumbles to himself. It didn’t sound like he was talking to you, but almost reminding himself you are human. you fragile. He must be careful.