I grin, he grins, and we start laughing. I am not even entirely sure
why, but it feels good to. It is like this reaching into the past has
swathed us in giddiness, and made us in this moment simpler, but
happier. We built a tent. And it made us smile.
“You have dirt smeared across your nose,” he tells me.
“And you have grass in your hair.”
I reach for him as he reaches for me and we collide, which makes me
laugh even harder. I tip my head back and let it leave me in a
cascade of joy. When I look at him again, he is staring at me like I
am something to be looked upon with wonder. I go still, wondering
what he is thinking as he looks at me.
“Hey there, Delilah,” he says softly, a slow smirk taking over
his features.
“Don't even, Rivers,” I warn. I can tell what he is thinking just
by how he said that.
He does. He sings 'Hey There Delilah' by The Plain White T's. Night
holds us in its embrace, but he lights it up with his essence alone.
His voice is steady, deep, and touches me in a way I cannot explain.
Tears fill my eyes and trail down my cheeks, but they are happy ones.
This feeling I have for him, it has washed away anything that has
fought to darken my heart and soul. I feel reborn in him, in what he
gives me with his mere presence.
Before he even finishes the song, I am springing myself at him,
wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing him to me. Don't
let go, don't let go, I think. I don't know who I am telling that
to—him or me. Both of us.
“Girls always fall for that,” he says against my neck.
“How many Delilahs have you sung that to?” I ask, never
relinquishing my hold on him. He may be fractured, and I may be
fractured, but together we are whole.
“Just one.”
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