you look like my next mistake
Flora exhales against Jack’s shoulder, her tears drying up as fast as they’d come now that she’s safely wrapped up in his arms. "I know," she murmurs, voice small but steady as her fingers finally loosen from his coat, smoothing over the fabric instead of clinging. "I wanted you to miss me," she confesses, knowing that he's likely already felt the ache of it still lingering in her chest, soft and bruised, the childish need to be wanted, to be chased, to be important enough to reach for, despite knowing that such tactics were wildly unlikely to work on a man like Jack.
Her fingers twitch against his waist, her heart still stumbling over itself in the wake of everything, of him saying it first, without her having to drag it out of him. And just like that, everything else—the fight, the anger, the days apart—feels so distant, so unimportant. Because this is what she needed all along. "I want to marry you, by the way. Not break up." Flora pulls back just enough to tilt her head up at him, sighing exaggeratedly as if he was the dramatic idiot here and not her.
Standing on her toes, the queen lifts herself up a few inches to better peer up at Jack through her damp lashes. "I’m sorry," she murmurs, voice softer now. "For what I said. That you don’t know how to love someone." Her brows knit together slightly, guilt creeping in, because she's aware of what a rare thing it is for him to admit something actually hurt him, and she’d gone and done exactly that. "I didn’t mean it."
Her fingers twitch against his waist, her heart still stumbling over itself in the wake of everything, of him saying it first, without her having to drag it out of him. And just like that, everything else—the fight, the anger, the days apart—feels so distant, so unimportant. Because this is what she needed all along. "I want to marry you, by the way. Not break up." Flora pulls back just enough to tilt her head up at him, sighing exaggeratedly as if he was the dramatic idiot here and not her.
Standing on her toes, the queen lifts herself up a few inches to better peer up at Jack through her damp lashes. "I’m sorry," she murmurs, voice softer now. "For what I said. That you don’t know how to love someone." Her brows knit together slightly, guilt creeping in, because she's aware of what a rare thing it is for him to admit something actually hurt him, and she’d gone and done exactly that. "I didn’t mean it."
