His eyes widened a smidge. His hands kind of hovered off to the side. So close, George could see the hazel central heterochromia of his eyes: outsides brown like the shade of a looking sandstorm, centers like the dark green leaves of grapevines. Blond eyelashes, too.
Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]
Slowly, George raised a hand to cup Bailey's cheek and tightened his legs around his waist—the boldest move he'd made besides their kiss.
"What're you doing?" Bailey whispered. His irises had gone almost thin as an eyelash, by how far his pupils had dilated.
George answered by brushing their lips together, feather-soft and tender. "This…"
He tightened his lips to a thin purse, for a moment. "You certainly– are taking a change for– more confidence–"
"Is that a bad thing?" On the inside, George was an absolute mess, barely refraining from hiding his face in his hands. The blush on his face was the only indication of how hard he was trying to keep it together, almost as if he was trying to impress the other.
"No, just taken me aback," Bailey kept his voice in a muted whisper.
"I can stop if you want me to," George hastened to reply, the first signs of anxiety flitting across his delicate features.
Well, Bailey could sense it. That George was uncomfortable– and he felt… Malicious, to an extent, that the man felt pressured to vulneralize himself for Bailey. "Please do, I can.. tell you're nervous," it felt strange.
"Only because it's been a while since I was last in a relationship…." he murmured, biting the inside of his cheek.
Bailey laughed quietly. "I didn't know you were in a previous engagement,"
"A while ago," he said evasively, a soft exhale parting his lips.
Bailey brushed George's chin with the bend of his knuckle. "Talk to me about it," he urged softly.
A lump formed in George's throat. "Not much to talk about…" he murmured, eyes flicking away. "Carriage accident."
"So we are both widowers," Bailey spoke softly, voice warm with empathy.
George's face clouded over. "We weren't married yet….I was going to propose…"
"There isn't a greater pain than losing the one who holds.. your soul," Bailey empathized. He curled his hand against George's temple and back of his head. "Let's talk about something happier.."
George closed his eyes, leaning into Bailey’s hand like a cat butting up to its owner. “Yes, let’s..”
He pulled George down to rest over his collarbone. "I was almost a father," Bailey spoke softly. "She and I were convinced it was going to be a boy. 'Girls aren't so violent', she'd say," Bailey reminisced. "We were going to name him Jay. After her uncle,"
“I’m sorry…” George’s face became contorted by sadness.
"I had an addiction to… Opioids, after they passed on. For some time. I couldn't sleep without it; if I tried I'd get nightmares so bad I'd wake in a cold sweat in a different room with my gun in hand." He spoke in a rambling, absent tone. "It gave me the loveliest dreams. I dreamt my son would've had her hair, dark bronze, and my eyes. Her freckles and a love for horses," he croaked. "I was sleeping so much, one time I didn't leave my house for almost two weeks. I'd wake up in my own waste and starving, but I didn't care, if I could see them,"
George pressed his forehead against Bailey, tears welling up in his eyes. “I wish you never had to suffer like that…”
"Oh… don't cry for me." Bailey breathed– why'd he have to say all of that? "Listen, I'm not like that anymore,"
“And I hope you’re never like that again…” he whispered fiercely. “I don’t want you to hurt…”
A deep-rooted sigh escaped him. "I've left it behind me, I promise. Summer is closing in now, I'll be able to start a job," Bailey spoke. "Did you know I can't swim?" He smiled
George blinked at the sudden change of topic. “You can’t?”
"Not at all." He replied with humor. "I fell into a river once during a drill, sank like a stone,"
“I’ll just have to teach you, then…” he murmured, tracing his jawline.
He laughed quietly, "The soldiers nearly took an entire minute before they realized I wasn't coming up. Goddamn, those kids can be stupid," Bailey huffed softly in humor.
“Ouch…” George stifled a chuckle, wincing a little.