I do not own I Think We're alone Now.
It is just absolute perfection and I love it.
Home Becomes You
Grace is a Youthful Sprite, Del is an Old Cranky Druid
He is still him and she is still her.
Sometimes she kisses him, on the cheek or light on the lips.
When she does, he lets her, wondering if he should push her to go out in the world and find someone more conventionally suited to her.
But instead when she looks into his eyes, he tries to remember . . .
We'll talk about it later.
. . . to find a smile for her.
Sometimes she tries to do more than simply kiss him.
And he wants to let her.
But . . .
"Grace . . ."
"What? I want you. I can tell you want me."
It's true, there's no denying it.
"What are you protecting me from?"
She doesn't sound particularly angry, particularly hurt or annoyed.
Just . . . questioning.
Just like Grace.
With all her questions.
And he can't tell her.
He can't tell her they don't match.
That she is the Beauty to his Beast.
Her with her normal height and youthful age, twenty-four she says.
And him.
Not any of those things.
And he can't tell her he isn't actually a Beast at all, not in his mind or in his body, he's just a man, differently sized and slightly unique in shape.
It's called achondroplasia, it's dwarfism, it's not a disease, it's just a genetic growth disorder.
He knows this and has accepted himself as he is.
She has too, other than her first "you sounded shorter" quip, she's never seemed to give one ounce of care to his abnormality.
It's just . . .
It's always been ingrained in him.
Perhaps it always will be.
And he just . . . can't . . .
I'm sorry.
. . . tell her.
And they're like that for a while, the two of them.
And it's nice, it's fine.
It's all he feels prepared to handle for the moment.
Her.
With him.
Him.
Not being a complete reclusive grump about the whole thing.
"Del?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad I'm here."
"Me too."
Thanks for reading!