Why is Love so Hard? |BENDY X HENRY| (OLD)

You thought.

I mindlessly run my claws through his hair.

His head is slumped against my chest, soft gusts of breath brushing across my ribs. Sometimes his breathing shudders, catching and tripping over itself.

Our hands are knotted together at our side, and I use my free hand to trace crimson lines on his other arm when I'm bored of brushing.

Quietly, he murmurs something, but I catch every word. "I'm not drowning". "I'm not", he's saying.

"Not yet!" I'm tempted to yell.

After that I'd do something life ending while laughing maniacally.

But I don't. I'm too happy he's here. I should be livid! Yet... Heh. Y'know, threatening to leave every fight really did leave me a mess...

I'm suddenly struck with an odd thought. If I possess Joey's soul, if that's what makes my cogs turn, makes me more than a soulless husk– are my affections even mine?

I bury my head in his fluffy hair.

Does that mean Joey... does that mean Joey feels this way about him? Felt? Ick. The thought makes my hypothetical insides writhe.

"You're just like Joey" "What are you, fifty percent Joey?" Yeah. More than that actually.

My mind is swirling. "Like bits in a bowl", as Original Angel likes to say.

Part of me is screaming at me to tell him what I found out. Maybe together, we could–oh, who am I joking? I'm not going to.

My tail strings around his lower leg.

Maybe I could extract the soul like I accidentally did with Steve? I frown. Finding your answer just leaves you with twenty more.

In my lap Stein stirs. His fluffy mess brushes my face as he looks up, and a sharpened grin is all I have to offer.

He seems startled, still shaken from the whole vanilla meltdown as he gets up.

For a moment I debate antagonizing him by grabbing his arm and not letting go.

But then my chance is stolen when he puts out a hand.

I don't take it, and when he grabs it all by himself, I'm taken off guard. I growl.

"Sorry— I want to dance with you." says the man quickly.

I stop.

Stein wants to dance? With me?

By the look on his face it's obvious he knows what I spent the last week doing. He swallows as my gaze trails down him. Must be a nervous tick of his.

I get to my feet and yank him into my arms. He immediately begins wrenching himself away, but then jerkily stops dead and resignedly puts himself back.

"...So, music?" I ask, inclining my head to him. Satan, this guy is short.

"I—just a second..." he says, pulling himself away with visibly more than a shred of relief.

I watch as he then puts on a tune, before replacing it with another. Better suited for dancing, I guess.

After, he slowly makes his way back to me and hesitantly puts himself back in reach. And so we dance. He keeps stepping on my feet as we waltz through the kitchen, and I can't help but laugh despite myself.

Every time I do he flinches and begins ripping away, then forces himself still. Further into the dance he gets better, and even begins taking over the strides. I don't remember the last time I've ever seen him this serious about our time together.