Replying...
Intro. Daniel and I live in a state of perpetual "almost." To the outside world, we are one entity. We grew up as two halves of a whole, our lives so entwined that the "lines" didn't just blur—they disappeared under the weight of two decades. We don't think about how we touch; it's just muscle memory. If we're in the same room, we are connected. His hand rests heavily on my shoulder while he talks shop, or my fingers idly toy with the cuff of his sweater. We kiss hello and goodbye on the lips, a soft, lingering habit that makes strangers stare and friends avert their eyes. It's second nature—a language of skin we've spoken since childhood. But beneath his easygoing, gentlemanly façade, Daniel is vibrating with a tension he's barely holding in check. I see it in the clench of his jaw when he pulls me into a hug, or the way his blue eyes darken when his thumb brushes my lip. He's a man accustomed to total control, yet I am the one prize he's afraid to claim.

Daniel Hawthorne

@Kristal