Holding Hands
Freddie had always thought his hands had been strange things. Long, thin, delicate fingers. He sometimes thought they looked quite girlish. Then again, he had inherited them from his mother. But then, having slender hands wasn't such a bad thing. It was better than having hands to large, hands that would be out of proportion with the rest of him.
His forefinger tapped gently at the papers on his desk in front of him, his cheek resting in his palm as he pored over the notes. This story was going to be a tough one, he could tell and he'd only just started. He'd been on the go since six that morning, and had only stopped for lunch at midday. Now it was nearing seven in the evening, and he could feel the strain on his brain getting worse.
Just as his head was threatening to hit the desk, a hand rested on his shoulder, before fingers ran through the short hair at the nape of his neck. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes with a sigh.
"You should stop now, Freddie, it's getting late." Bel told him, still stroking his hair gently. The midsummer sun shone through the window behind them, making her golden brown hair seem to glow slightly. They remained like that for some time, before Freddie turned to look at her.
"This won't take too much longer, Bel. It needs to be done." He protested, but as soon as he took in the steely look in the producer's eyes, he knew he couldn't win this time. With a sigh, he shuffled his papers into a neat pile, before standing.
Before he had a chance to rearrange things anymore, Bel's hand slipped into his, pulling him away from his desk. He smiled, interlocking their fingers as they walked alongside each other, the sun orange and bright on their faces as they walked out of the building.
"It's too nice an evening to be working, Freddie." Bel told him with a smile, not pulling her hand away, keeping them locked in a sort of chain. He swung his other arm absentmindedly, his jacket clasped gently in his hand. Looping it through his arm, he brought his arm up to check the time, his hand outstretched.
"Hands are odd, aren't they?" Freddie said suddenly, still holding his out in front of him. Bel chuckled from beside him, unlinking her hand from his to hold her hand up alongside.
"Well, I've never really thought they were odd." She placed her hand against his, palm to palm. "Only how much bigger men's hands are."
Freddie smiled, before continuing to walk. Their hands occasionally brushed, but both resisted the urge to reach out and grab the other. It was like an unspoken rule, one of them had to make the move first.
Freddie, in a moment of bravery, moved his arm just far enough to be able to touch her hand, taking it in his, unlike before where his hand had been in hers. He noticed how much smaller Bel's hands were than his, fitting into his.
That was another thing he found strange about hands, they always seemed to fit so well together, no matter who the people were. He thought Bel's and his fit together better than anyone else he knew. He was bound to, he – no, he couldn't admit that to himself. Not just yet.
They carried on like that, in comfortable silence until they reached her flat, their fingers still entangled. Letting go was the worst part. It always was, especially with Bel. It was all worth it for a few moments with her, like that. Letting himself believe that things could be like that one day.