[Rather than respond with words (there are no words that can express the depths of what Phil is feeling right now, so why even bother to try?), it's Phil's turn to reach out and just pull Day close, sliding one hand up to run through strands of soft hair as he tugs Day's head down to rest against his shoulder. This is, he thinks, what this promise truly means-- being there for each other, a refuge from anything that is just too much to be faced alone, even if that 'anything' is one's own emotions.
(Silently he wonders how much lighter the weight of his own burden will be now that he doesn't have to carry it all alone. It's a selfish thought, but he thinks this particular brand of selfishness is a little understandable under the circumstances.)
The sigh that escapes his lips as he leans his cheek against Day's head is one of mingled joy and relief, a release of feelings he hadn't even realized had built up until they escape. If Day needs to be the one to cry it out this time, he'll be right here.]
... it matches your eyes.
[No small part of what makes it perfect to him. Every time he looks at it, he'll be reminded of starlight and a gentle gaze meant for him and him alone.]
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(Silently he wonders how much lighter the weight of his own burden will be now that he doesn't have to carry it all alone. It's a selfish thought, but he thinks this particular brand of selfishness is a little understandable under the circumstances.)
The sigh that escapes his lips as he leans his cheek against Day's head is one of mingled joy and relief, a release of feelings he hadn't even realized had built up until they escape. If Day needs to be the one to cry it out this time, he'll be right here.]
... it matches your eyes.
[No small part of what makes it perfect to him. Every time he looks at it, he'll be reminded of starlight and a gentle gaze meant for him and him alone.]