( if prompto still retained any semblance of rationality by this point it would've been spent pinching himself to make sure this isn't some kind of fever dream, that these months in some weird random town dealing with the most unexpected of things aren't just a figment of his undoubtedly overactive imagination - but the fact is he doesn't; all that's registering is the nudge of aranea's nose against his that calls forth the memories of their first day here, when they had been blissfully oblivious, each other's entire world. gingerly he shifts, moves to thread his free hand in silver strands and when he's wrapped up in yet another kiss it feels like coming home, the answering warmth surging in his chest 'til it feels fit to burst. )
[ When his fingers tangle in her hair it reminds her just how much she's missed this. Just the closeness. The warmth of him, the reassurance that comes with that sweetness that's all his and nothing to do with whatever put them here. She hums quietly at his gentle shifting, slips a hand under the hem of his shirt to rest it against the warmth of his skin, and tips her head to lay a kiss against the line of his jaw. ]
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gosh
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Missed you, Shortcake.