[ His hand goes to her wrist to pull some of the pressure from his throat, even if the weight she put against it wasn't nearly enough to hurt him or impede his breathing. When she falls against him, when her hair brushes against his cheek, he blinks up at her, startled by her proximity more than anything.
(It should dredge something up. It should remind him of sunlight falling through her hair, catching in the pink strands. It should remind him of the spike of fear piercing his heart.
It should remind him of stumbling with her, catching her as she fell. Saying with an insufferable smirk, "Why, Gamora. Are you falling for me?"
But nothing rises to the surface.) ]
I'm trying not to, alright? [ And his tone is a little defensive – which seems to be the running theme of today. ] This doesn't come as easy to me as it does to you, Gamora.
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(It should dredge something up. It should remind him of sunlight falling through her hair, catching in the pink strands. It should remind him of the spike of fear piercing his heart.
It should remind him of stumbling with her, catching her as she fell. Saying with an insufferable smirk, "Why, Gamora. Are you falling for me?"
But nothing rises to the surface.) ]
I'm trying not to, alright? [ And his tone is a little defensive – which seems to be the running theme of today. ] This doesn't come as easy to me as it does to you, Gamora.