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A pair of stubby, strong arms envelop Paintbrush with such vigour and glee that it almost knocks them off their feet. It would’ve, if they weren’t ready for it. Paintbrush has been waiting for this for a long time. Four years, it feels like.
Lightbulb doesn’t have time to speak, blink or breathe, the only thing that matters right now is being as close to Paintbrush as possible in every single way. Clinging, clutching onto them like a leech. Breathing in the air from their lungs. Hearing their hearts beat in sync.
“I missed you, Paintbrush,” she says finally, loosening her grip on their shoulders and tearing her face away from their neck for just a second to look at their face. Their lips quiver with the threat of tears falling down, Lightbulb can’t help but laugh.
“I’m so happy to see you again,” Paintbrush says, and everything is right in the world again.
Lightbulb kisses Paintbrush until their lips bruise, wanting to do nothing but hold onto them and play like kids for the rest of eternity. Paintbrush lets her, would’ve let her do it until their face went blue. They like feeling out of breath from chasing her.