Liam
And I feel like my castle's crumbling down
And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground
And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground
Ah, yes, shopping. Liam’s greatest pleasure and undoubtedly his most abundant skill.
He remembered a time when his wife would drag him along to the market, where he would watch her try on shirts and pants and dresses, and how they all started to blur together after a while, but he never minded because it was worth seeing the smile on her face when she found something she loved. He remembered her holding up clothing from rack after rack, and the way she’d roll her eyes lovingly at his blank expression as he’d try - and fail - to imagine what it would look like on. She’d take bundles into changing rooms, model endless cycles of clothing for him, and he’d always tell her she was gorgeous in anything she tried on. And he always meant it.
It had been years since he’d shopped for anything other than the barest of essentials for himself, and he couldn’t help the sudden nostalgia as he ran his fingers over a crimson shirt, the silk so fine that he dropped his hand lest his rough calluses snag on the fabric. He realized belatedly that Maea had asked his opinion, and he cleared his throat, embarrassed to have been caught in his own reverie. ”Depends on what you like,” he said. ”Bold colors? Pastels? Patterns?” He rather thought she’d look stunning in lilac, but given that purple wasn’t a popular color just now thanks to the Void, he kept that observation to himself.
He remembered a time when his wife would drag him along to the market, where he would watch her try on shirts and pants and dresses, and how they all started to blur together after a while, but he never minded because it was worth seeing the smile on her face when she found something she loved. He remembered her holding up clothing from rack after rack, and the way she’d roll her eyes lovingly at his blank expression as he’d try - and fail - to imagine what it would look like on. She’d take bundles into changing rooms, model endless cycles of clothing for him, and he’d always tell her she was gorgeous in anything she tried on. And he always meant it.
It had been years since he’d shopped for anything other than the barest of essentials for himself, and he couldn’t help the sudden nostalgia as he ran his fingers over a crimson shirt, the silk so fine that he dropped his hand lest his rough calluses snag on the fabric. He realized belatedly that Maea had asked his opinion, and he cleared his throat, embarrassed to have been caught in his own reverie. ”Depends on what you like,” he said. ”Bold colors? Pastels? Patterns?” He rather thought she’d look stunning in lilac, but given that purple wasn’t a popular color just now thanks to the Void, he kept that observation to himself.
And you don't want to know me, I will just let you down
You don't wanna know me now
You don't wanna know me now
