flora
Glowering up at him, Flora rakes her fingers through her curls, pulling them back away from her face, resisting the urge to say something petulant like, well apparently that's all this ever was, so... Instead, she just clenches her teeth together as he sinks down, near enough at her eye level that at least she's not going to pull something in her neck by continuing this conversation. No doubt some part of her will be hurt in the process, but not that, at least.
"Jack...gods, you know this hurts, right? Not everyone has the luxury of being able to switch their emotions off like you do." Having turned slightly more toward him, the moonlight carving out her silhouette in silver, Flora does her best to try and soften, to let him peer through the forest she'd grown of towering birches in her mind to protect what little light she felt like she had left. When he'd found her at the fountain, something inside of her had fractured to be sure, but the cracks were superficial; a wound that bled more than it had any right to owing more to gravity than injury.
But these fractures hadn't come from just one blow, but instead had been the result of months—seasons—worth of pressure. Spiderwebs of weakness had snapped out, stretching and expanding, growing little by little, until the last blow had finally been dealt.
—Just feel what you feel. I want to know.
—Whatever you're thinking, I don't want to hear it.
And then it had all splintered; the cracks had roared across her pysche, shattering her heart in the process and now here Jack was with his fucking hypothetical questions as if the breaks he'd opened up were his to measure and puzzle over.
"Please just stop." Biting at the inside of her cheek as tears stream down it, Flora tries to keep the words as steady as she can. "I don't want to play this game with you. I don't want to think about what if this, and for the record if you'd that. We've already both said that it doesn't matter, so just.."
..go.
"Jack...gods, you know this hurts, right? Not everyone has the luxury of being able to switch their emotions off like you do." Having turned slightly more toward him, the moonlight carving out her silhouette in silver, Flora does her best to try and soften, to let him peer through the forest she'd grown of towering birches in her mind to protect what little light she felt like she had left. When he'd found her at the fountain, something inside of her had fractured to be sure, but the cracks were superficial; a wound that bled more than it had any right to owing more to gravity than injury.
But these fractures hadn't come from just one blow, but instead had been the result of months—seasons—worth of pressure. Spiderwebs of weakness had snapped out, stretching and expanding, growing little by little, until the last blow had finally been dealt.
—Just feel what you feel. I want to know.
—Whatever you're thinking, I don't want to hear it.
And then it had all splintered; the cracks had roared across her pysche, shattering her heart in the process and now here Jack was with his fucking hypothetical questions as if the breaks he'd opened up were his to measure and puzzle over.
"Please just stop." Biting at the inside of her cheek as tears stream down it, Flora tries to keep the words as steady as she can. "I don't want to play this game with you. I don't want to think about what if this, and for the record if you'd that. We've already both said that it doesn't matter, so just.."
..go.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
