you squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi, i can tell that its gonna be a long road

walker was exhausted.

it was new year’s eve - well, now new year’s day - and he’d just spent the night out with you and a bunch of his other friends. he used up all his energy that night and had none to get himself home in one piece.

so, as a dutiful girlfriend, you shoved him in the back of a taxi and hopped in with him. he couldn’t even buckle himself in, he just rested his head in your lap and closed his eyes.

the whole drive home was silent, but he held your hand the whole way back, occasionally squeezing it three times.

what did it mean? i, love, you. he was too tired to talk, but he still wanted to tell you it any chance he could get.

the second the car reached his house, you (somehow) pulled him out of the car, slinging his arm over your shoulder. you let yourself in and locked the door, bringing him over to the couch and letting him down.

“mm, stay,” he groaned, grabbing your hand and squeezing it again, three times.