you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
There’s a long silence after Koa's voice stops her in her tracks far too gently, after that maddening, impossible question she has no real answer for turns her back around. Flora doesn’t look at him right away. She just stares down at the edge of his table, at the faint ghost of an eraser mark in the corner of his notebook, at the shadow his pencil casts beneath the low bar light. Something inside her is screaming, but it’s the quiet kind. The kind that burrows into your ribs and claws at your lungs, all teeth and loneliness.
"Yeah," she says at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m fine." It’s not convincing. It’s not even close. And it probably wouldn’t be, even if Koa didn't know her as well as he did, but it’s the only thing she knows how to say, the only lie that won’t splinter either of them even more than she already has.
Flora still doesn’t look at him, and she absolutely, categorically, does not look at the warm, open curve of his body like he’s a lighthouse suddenly willing to shine in her direction again. Her eyes land on his notebook instead, and her chest tightens when she sees the clean page. Sohalia had said he needed time, that he wanted her to be sure. And Flora—fool that she is—had joked it was because he was probably planning something over-the-top. Matching jackets. Singing bees. Something ridiculous and perfectly Koa. Now, standing here beside him while the whole world tries not to watch, she’s suddenly sure that’s exactly what he’s doing. Planning. Hoping. Loving the way only he can.
"Is this..." She clears her throat, and her voice is too light when she speaks again, like sugar that’s about to crack. "I bet she'd really enjoy something to do with cartography. Y'know, like a map of your heart, or...a map of the stars the night you're going to see her next or something." The suggestion might have sounded more earnest if her voice didn’t wobble at the end. If she didn’t have to blink so fast to keep the tears at bay.
She wants to say she’s happy for them the way she did with Soh. Because she is, as much as she can be. But it still feels like someone’s replaced her ribs with glass and is daring her to breathe anytime she even thinks about meeting his gaze. Whatever else Koa is now, he’s still the boy who once looked at her like she was something sacred, something beautiful and worth holding onto. And she’s still the girl who answered I love you with there's someone else. It was why she'd told Sohalia not to wait the two weeks to tell Koa that she was sure, because had the pair not thought their summer romance wouldn't ever have an end, had they treated their time together like it was precious and not something they had in spades, it would have been him.
Trying for a smile because her sharp edges and mismatched pieces no longer have any place in Koa's hands, Flora swallows hard before blinking up at the ceiling as if she can keep the tears in just by refusing to acknowledge them. The difference between Jack and Koa has never felt so blinding: One walked away and told her it was all her fault.; the other is looking at her now like she’s still worth worrying over. And gods but she can’t bear it.
"Yeah," she says at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m fine." It’s not convincing. It’s not even close. And it probably wouldn’t be, even if Koa didn't know her as well as he did, but it’s the only thing she knows how to say, the only lie that won’t splinter either of them even more than she already has.
Flora still doesn’t look at him, and she absolutely, categorically, does not look at the warm, open curve of his body like he’s a lighthouse suddenly willing to shine in her direction again. Her eyes land on his notebook instead, and her chest tightens when she sees the clean page. Sohalia had said he needed time, that he wanted her to be sure. And Flora—fool that she is—had joked it was because he was probably planning something over-the-top. Matching jackets. Singing bees. Something ridiculous and perfectly Koa. Now, standing here beside him while the whole world tries not to watch, she’s suddenly sure that’s exactly what he’s doing. Planning. Hoping. Loving the way only he can.
"Is this..." She clears her throat, and her voice is too light when she speaks again, like sugar that’s about to crack. "I bet she'd really enjoy something to do with cartography. Y'know, like a map of your heart, or...a map of the stars the night you're going to see her next or something." The suggestion might have sounded more earnest if her voice didn’t wobble at the end. If she didn’t have to blink so fast to keep the tears at bay.
She wants to say she’s happy for them the way she did with Soh. Because she is, as much as she can be. But it still feels like someone’s replaced her ribs with glass and is daring her to breathe anytime she even thinks about meeting his gaze. Whatever else Koa is now, he’s still the boy who once looked at her like she was something sacred, something beautiful and worth holding onto. And she’s still the girl who answered I love you with there's someone else. It was why she'd told Sohalia not to wait the two weeks to tell Koa that she was sure, because had the pair not thought their summer romance wouldn't ever have an end, had they treated their time together like it was precious and not something they had in spades, it would have been him.
Trying for a smile because her sharp edges and mismatched pieces no longer have any place in Koa's hands, Flora swallows hard before blinking up at the ceiling as if she can keep the tears in just by refusing to acknowledge them. The difference between Jack and Koa has never felt so blinding: One walked away and told her it was all her fault.; the other is looking at her now like she’s still worth worrying over. And gods but she can’t bear it.
