He feels it more deeply now, everything cuts to the core of him. She hurts and scares and thrills him. He is so beautiful, still shy and afraid, but he discards the pretence, that thin veneer. He reaches to open himself even further to her, the slide into oblivion so close, always right there. He knows she loves his vulnerability: he steps bravely into the void and shows it to her, offered up with trust. He knows now that she will not stop when he is hurt beyond hurt, when he bleeds, or when he hovers on that edge, so he lets her see it, raw and real, that wildness in his eyes, the screaming pain, the helpless cries.
He is coming into his own… he is coming home to her and it makes her stupidly proud, makes her mouth and fingertips tingle with want, makes her feel like she can’t contain it inside her skin, makes her want to wrap him up into some small thing, to carry him with her, to absorb him into her pores and suck him into her mouth.
She examines it, this feeling, and finds, to her surprise, that it is her heart breaking. Over and over, he breaks her heart.