YET ANOTHER WRITERANON FAIL. ABOVE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 4.c/5!
“Please, just say it.” Leonardo's voice was now a whisper, the depth of his voice giving way to emotions; fear, concern, apprehension. Please, Ezio thought, let there be hope and acceptance; tolerance, anything, in that voice as well.
“At first,” His throat had tightened, voice weak. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath. Calmed himself. “At first I tried to ignore it. I did not deny it; no, I never denied it. I merely...stupidly believed that with time it would dull and become bearable. More of a flutter than a giant swoop. Like taking a leap into a cart below. At first your heart is in your throat and you shake uncontrollably. Now, I have no qualms or fears.”
Leonardo leant forwards and the bench creaked beneath him, “I'm afraid I don't understand -” “Please,” He stopped him. The sound of Leonardo's voice was enough to make his heart race and his breath quicken, his muscles tense and tongue knot. “I never denied it, only ignored it. But the thing is, it never dulled. It just...added up. It just keeps on gaining in ferocity so that soon, just the sound of your name can make me feel...”
The confusion on Leonardo's face when Ezio looked up, begging him to understand, was painful. The breath he had held in his lungs expelled in a rush and he groaned, closing his eyes once more to the image.
“Oh, Leonardo, please. Please understand this. You do not even have to return the sentiment. I do not ask of you anything but tolerance. Acceptance, if you will give it. Please.”
Leonardo, visibly distressed, shuffled closer, reached out a bare hand and lay it over Ezio's own, squeezing in an attempt to give him reassurance. “Please, I do not understand. Ezio, I do not understand this.”
He tensed, and then relaxed his muscles, visibly slumping. The fluttering butterflies that had been in his stomach transformed into a hive of bees. Silently he took the hand that lay over his own and brought it to his lips, pressing stained fingers to them desperately.
The hand tightened around his. A sharp intake of breath could be heard. Ezio awaited the verdict. The breathing seemed to disappear in the room at all and he became aware that his own was stalled in his throat and Leonardo's...if it weren't for the fingers at his lips he would not think he were there at all.
And then it moved away. Ezio's heart dropped. It devastated. It died. He screwed his eyes up even tighter, his breath escaped him.
And it returned. Finger glided over his bearded cheek, nestled in his hair. A palm pressed itself to his skin and everything was reversed. His heart jumped back up and into his throat, his nerves were alight, alive and sensitive to every movement of that skin pressed to his own.
“Ezio,” Leonardo's voice fluctuated in his whisper, a desperation so obviously evident. “Ezio, please let me not be thinking of this as something it isn't.”
Words seemed impossible, each one fighting to clamber from his mouth. He turned his head and pressed his lips to the palm, breath stuttering. He couldn't calm himself.
“At first,” he started, and his voice was broken but the delicacy of the moment told him not to fix that. To not break the tenderness with the roughness of his throat. “At first I tried to ignore it. I never denied it, but...”
“But?”
“Now, at the mere mention of your name, Leonardo, I feel myself...falling.”
“Falling?”
“Yes.”
“What are you falling into?”
Ezio shook his head, moving against the palm, and then pressed his lips to it again and again. “Love.”
Leonardo's breath shook. His hand trembled and twitched.
“At the mere mention of your name. When I see you it is like...like my heart is strapped into your flying machine and has taken off without me.” He laughed into Leonardo's palm. “When we embrace it is like my heart pushes against my chest in an attempt to be closer to your own.” He took a shuddering breath and let it out. “Please, Leonardo.”
FILL [4.d/5]
“Please, just say it.” Leonardo's voice was now a whisper, the depth of his voice giving way to emotions; fear, concern, apprehension. Please, Ezio thought, let there be hope and acceptance; tolerance, anything, in that voice as well.
“At first,” His throat had tightened, voice weak. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath. Calmed himself. “At first I tried to ignore it. I did not deny it; no, I never denied it. I merely...stupidly believed that with time it would dull and become bearable. More of a flutter than a giant swoop. Like taking a leap into a cart below. At first your heart is in your throat and you shake uncontrollably. Now, I have no qualms or fears.”
Leonardo leant forwards and the bench creaked beneath him, “I'm afraid I don't understand -”
“Please,” He stopped him. The sound of Leonardo's voice was enough to make his heart race and his breath quicken, his muscles tense and tongue knot. “I never denied it, only ignored it. But the thing is, it never dulled. It just...added up. It just keeps on gaining in ferocity so that soon, just the sound of your name can make me feel...”
The confusion on Leonardo's face when Ezio looked up, begging him to understand, was painful. The breath he had held in his lungs expelled in a rush and he groaned, closing his eyes once more to the image.
“Oh, Leonardo, please. Please understand this. You do not even have to return the sentiment. I do not ask of you anything but tolerance. Acceptance, if you will give it. Please.”
Leonardo, visibly distressed, shuffled closer, reached out a bare hand and lay it over Ezio's own, squeezing in an attempt to give him reassurance. “Please, I do not understand. Ezio, I do not understand this.”
He tensed, and then relaxed his muscles, visibly slumping. The fluttering butterflies that had been in his stomach transformed into a hive of bees. Silently he took the hand that lay over his own and brought it to his lips, pressing stained fingers to them desperately.
The hand tightened around his. A sharp intake of breath could be heard. Ezio awaited the verdict. The breathing seemed to disappear in the room at all and he became aware that his own was stalled in his throat and Leonardo's...if it weren't for the fingers at his lips he would not think he were there at all.
And then it moved away. Ezio's heart dropped. It devastated. It died. He screwed his eyes up even tighter, his breath escaped him.
And it returned. Finger glided over his bearded cheek, nestled in his hair. A palm pressed itself to his skin and everything was reversed. His heart jumped back up and into his throat, his nerves were alight, alive and sensitive to every movement of that skin pressed to his own.
“Ezio,” Leonardo's voice fluctuated in his whisper, a desperation so obviously evident. “Ezio, please let me not be thinking of this as something it isn't.”
Words seemed impossible, each one fighting to clamber from his mouth. He turned his head and pressed his lips to the palm, breath stuttering. He couldn't calm himself.
“At first,” he started, and his voice was broken but the delicacy of the moment told him not to fix that. To not break the tenderness with the roughness of his throat. “At first I tried to ignore it. I never denied it, but...”
“But?”
“Now, at the mere mention of your name, Leonardo, I feel myself...falling.”
“Falling?”
“Yes.”
“What are you falling into?”
Ezio shook his head, moving against the palm, and then pressed his lips to it again and again. “Love.”
Leonardo's breath shook. His hand trembled and twitched.
“At the mere mention of your name. When I see you it is like...like my heart is strapped into your flying machine and has taken off without me.” He laughed into Leonardo's palm. “When we embrace it is like my heart pushes against my chest in an attempt to be closer to your own.” He took a shuddering breath and let it out. “Please, Leonardo.”