ashesandhoney

Henry fidgeted. Charlotte had always known that. His hands were in as constant motion as his thoughts. Usually he tapped pens or rocked his chair back and forth until she wanted to toss him and the squeaky thing out the nearest window. She had seen him fidget with burning candles and vials of poison as well. 

 

Tonight though he was playing with her hand. They had been sitting together and his fingers had found hers. He didn’t hold her hand. That would be too still for him. He stroked her fingers and drew patterns on the back of her hand and her wrist. 

 

She had been reading. She stopped to watch his hand on hers. He didn’t look up. He didn’t seem to notice. His fingers were long and calloused and had three plasters taped in various places but they were light and gentle and incredibly distracting. Her hand looked so small under his. She smiled at him and looked up, expecting him to look back but he didn’t. He just kept tracing patterns while he scribbled down equations with his other hand.