They try not to touch any more than necessary, but they’re both human, and it’s hard for her not to offer a hand to grip when they’re waiting for a pain med to kick in, or lean in when he brushes her cheek in thanks. His fingers trace the outline of her face, light and reverent. She wonders if he has to concentrate to sense those little changes in the flow of air when she closes her eyes.

God.

They lay on the couch together, the sun a gentle warmth on their skin.

I'm dead. You killed me. Ahh, this is so beautiful. ♥

(Have you written more Matt/Claire? Can I subscribe to your newsletter? Do you wanna be friends? :)