Even after all this time, he's so tender. Tentative. Full of feather-light touches that hesitate before touching. So afraid of doing the wrong thing. He's made mistakes before. He never wants to do anything to ruin this. When illness, or even just bad days, happen, he speaks even softer than usual. The words themselves don't really matter, even though they're quite wonderful. That soft and soothing tone helps more than anything. Even on the worst days.
Oh god, I’m in love.