[ dave isn't sure what he meant when he said "play me a song" and "stay". humming, maybe. something simple and less intimate, less letting john's fingers dance down his side and over his ribs like they belong there.
something lodges in his throat. sadness, maybe, or relief, or some bittersweet mix of the two. he doesn't think he can cry still but his hand searches for john's free one. ]
[He isn't sure what Dave's hoping for, but he moves his arm forward so Dave can take his hand. He continues to play, something slow and sweet over the space between Dave's waist and his ribcage as his fingers intertwine with Dave's. That seems to be what he thinks is requested here. He doesn't know, but he doesn't plan on stopping until Dave says so, too.]
[ dave isn't really sure either. he lets john entwine their fingers and he pulls their clasped hands up to brush his lips over the back of john's hand, barely a kiss. it's as close to "thanks" as he feels up to for the moment. ]
[Good enough. He hopes it's enough, and he continues. It seems he has enough songs memorized that he'll play for as long as possible one-handed and silently. His fingers act on their own accord, sliding across planes and flat portions of Dave's side and his free hand stays in Dave's.
He doesn't feel like talking either. What else can be said to make this better?]
[ nothing much, really. but with their hands entwined and john playing music against his side, dave eventually drifts off to sleep. and maybe that's good enough. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
something lodges in his throat. sadness, maybe, or relief, or some bittersweet mix of the two. he doesn't think he can cry still but his hand searches for john's free one. ]
no subject
no subject
no subject
He doesn't feel like talking either. What else can be said to make this better?]
no subject
no subject