[He tries to raise his other hand to press against his chest, but the gesture is cut off midway through, a reach that isn't completed. He sucks in a breath--or tries to, at least, but his inhalation is more of a rattle in his dry throat--]
Th--
[Whatever he's going to say, he doesn't even manage to complete the word. Instead, his gaze fixes on the grasp of her fingers, and he tugs backwards, once, sharp, and pulls his hand free.
And all that warmth goes out of him all at once, sucked neatly away, and the tight feeling in his chest lets up in that same instance. With a gasp, Mitchell stares down at his hand, at his fingers that still retain some tingle of warmth to them.]
no subject
Th--
[Whatever he's going to say, he doesn't even manage to complete the word. Instead, his gaze fixes on the grasp of her fingers, and he tugs backwards, once, sharp, and pulls his hand free.
And all that warmth goes out of him all at once, sucked neatly away, and the tight feeling in his chest lets up in that same instance. With a gasp, Mitchell stares down at his hand, at his fingers that still retain some tingle of warmth to them.]
Jesus.