Ever since wings sprouted from his back, Warren has found himself watching the birds flying in the sky and yearning for the freedom they possess. He would love nothing more than to one day take a flight, without ever having to return, and simply let everything, every worry, ever burden, every painful memory fall away. He'd gladly leave it all behind, but he can't. He has too many responsibilities, too many people depending on him, too many lives that need his help.
Still, he watches the birds, his own wings trembling with anticipation, his feet arching instinctively upward, ready to let him fly from this earth. His fingers curl around his windowsill. He's ready to jump when her soft voice reaches his ears.
"Warren." She doesn't need her telepathy to read him. She knows what he wants and longs to grant it, but they're needed. They're always needed.
With gentle hands, Betsy turns him around from the big, open sky and its endless possibilities and presses her lips to his. Warren moans against her hot mouth, and for a while, he's free. For a little while, he can forget again; he scoops her up and carries her back to bed.
The End