ᅟ bill looked down at the outstreched hand. he hesitated for a second—a habit of impossible pacts, promises made in derry that he had never really been able to keep. yet he felt his own heart beat faster at the thought of ( ... ) ᅟ

ᅟ taking it. his fingers brushed hers before closing around them in a warm, firm grip, despite the slight tremor. he smiled, a little nervously, but his gaze remained fixed on her. “ a deal, huh ? ” his voice was low, almost ( ... ) ᅟ

ᅟ hoarse, as if he wefe confiding a secret. “ are you r—r—ready to see mine ? i warn you ... they're not very pretty. ” he let a silence fall, his thumb lightly brushing her hand as if by accident. then, leaning slightly ( ... ) ᅟ

ᅟ toward her, he whispered. “ but ... if you're really ready to play ... i promise i won't run away. not this time. ” his smile widened, fragile but sincere, and he gently squeezed her hand as if to seal something more ( ... ) ᅟ

ᅟ than a simple pact—a budding, vibrant complicity, charged with a tension that neither of them sought to extinguish. ᅟ