Love was something Hunter was far from used to.

Affection, Hunter learned growing up, was something you needed to earn. You needed to prove to others that you were worthy of their time and praise. That's how it was with Belos, anyways.

But not with you.

You offered affection like it was nothing, letting Hunter eat it right out of your palm any chance he got. Whether you complimented him, or praised him, or smiled at him alone, it was enough to knock him off his feet.

One evening, tucked between your window and window frame, was a letter. The handwriting was adorably sloppy, tucked into an envelope decorated with random stickers:

“Between Your Hands”

I found the sky not in the stars, But resting quiet where you are— A breath, a pause, a pulse, a flame, That softly trembled at my name.

You touched me not with hands alone, But with a voice I’ve always known, A gaze that sees beyond the skin To places no one else has been.

The world still turns, but slower now— Each second curved beneath your brow. And every silence that we keep Is deeper than the deepest sleep.

No grand parade, no serenade, Just stolen glances softly made— And yet, I swear, my soul was stirred By every look, by every word.

So if I love you, let it be Like rivers longing for the sea— Not loud or rushed, but pure and wide, A tide that pulls, and will not hide.