They're So Sooooft. - Tumblr Posts
🪐 — james barnes ;
even his name is ripped open, torn apart until it becomes something tangible, something they can sink teeth into and tear to shreds until it no longer feels like his. his own self is lost between memories that are and are not his, an endless cacophony of voices that slip between his bones until they echo in the hollows, convince him of a haunting tied to his cartilage. she takes his hand like he were nothing more than a man, like they didn’t give him a name and twist him into a horror story. if she somehow doesn’t know the truth of his existence, if that’s why he’s allowed so close to her, allowed someone who doesn’t alternate between fear and pity, then selfishly he wants to keep it that way. mesmerised gaze watches the soft trace of her fingers over his, allows her the freedom to move it this way and that way, trying not to focus on the clawing in his chest at the first touches, the realisation of how long it’s been since he’s been allowed this.
there’s a new dryness in his throat, a thickness as he swallows his voice back, fights hard to not have a reaction that might seem strange, that might give away something of the truth of him. he doesn’t like the hiding, doesn’t like lying when she has been nothing but kind, but there’s a lightness around her and he doesn’t want to do anything to lose that, not when it makes him feel like he can breathe again, like there’s a hope for someone believing he’s still a good man. so he sits there and lets her play with his fingers, wonders for a moment what it might have been like if she’d taken his hand between hers, has to stop that thought when he realises he might have liked her to, might have wanted a moment when he felt like anyone else in the world.
— ❛ don’t think anyone’s going to be interested in pictures of me. ❜ it’s a lie really. there are far too many reasons people might want anything connected with him, and he’s never sure which one of them is worse, which one of them makes him feel most out of place in his own body. he doesn’t want to let her down though, likes the way the light lingers on her cheeks when she smiles at him properly, finds himself craving her approval whenever he can get it. ❛ you can, if you want to. just … only for your eyes, okay? ❜
SHE DOESN’T CLAIM TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM. in fact, when she thinks about it, there’s actually very little that birdie does know about him. james is a tightly closed book most of the time, his memories & missions always fraught with painful things he either will not or cannot discuss with her. but while she knows that it all weighs heavily on him, none of it really matters to her — especially not when they are seated together on the sofa, an old record scratching softly in the background, alpine dozing at their feet. casual & comfortable together, as if they’ve always been like this. part of her hopes they always will. after so long on her own, it’s just nice to have someone she trusts around. & birdie does trust him, in spite of how little time they’ve actually had together. it’s not a question of james’ abilities; no, she knows what the hands she gently traces are able to do — she’s not in denial about that. but with her, he’s always been so cautious & gentle, so kind & caring. how could she not feel safe with him when he lets her tuck under his arm & trace her fingertips over his hand ? when james gives his conditional permission, birdie comes alight, bouncing to her feet with the excitement, his hand still held loosely in her own. ❝ of course, i promise, they wouldn’t be for anyone else. just me. cross my heart, ❞ she chirps, her free hand tracing a large x over her chest to illustrate. ❝ just let me get my sketchbook. ❞ & it’s only when she turns away that she releases his hand, practically skipping across the room to her bag & tugging the notebook & her little tin of drawing pencils out. she’s smiling widely when she makes her way back to his side, seating herself back on the couch with her feet tucked close to her hips, knees raised up in front of her chest. ❝ you know, i’ve actually been wanting to do this ever since i saw you sitting at my bench that day, ❞ she says with a giggle, opening her book to a blank page & propping it on her folded legs.