you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora wants—gods, wants—to believe him. To believe she's still that girl, still the queen he paints her as with the shape of his voice. But the words slide over her like rain on glass, unable to reach the places inside her that feel broken beyond repair. How is she supposed to feel like a boss ass bitch when she goes back not to a house filled with laughter and promise, but to the lonely shell of a boat she barely knows how to live in yet? How is she supposed to believe she’ll recover when everything that once felt like hers has crumbled away?
She doesn’t realize she’s taken a step closer to him until his hand recoils. Until the sudden space between them snaps taut like a frayed rope and leaves her standing there, hollow and stung, blinking against the sharp sting at the backs of her eyes. The moment—the one they’ve both been dancing around for so long—evaporates like morning mist, leaving nothing but the ache of another loss neither of them can touch without bleeding for it.
For a second, Flora just... stands there, anchored in place by the terrible weight of almost. She lets herself look at him properly, because she knows—deep down, knows—this is the last time she’ll get to do it without guilt knotting in her chest. Koa, with his easy, open smile and the warmth that always radiated off him like sunlight through salt-washed windows. Koa, who could carry her weight across the entirety of Torchline just to toss her into the sea and still have the breath to make her laugh afterward. Koa, with the stubborn set of his jaw that only softened when he looked at her like she was the best mistake he ever made.
Even now, with his copper eyes darkened by things unspoken, he’s beautiful in a way that steals her breath; something earnest and steady woven into the strong lines of his face, the boyish curve of his grin still flickering faintly even when everything else is bleeding between them. She remembers teasing him about how badly he danced, about the forest of flowers he'd once left at her door, at the corny and romantic letters in his soldier's scrawl. She remembers moments collapsing against him for unspoken support that he always so freely gave, the way their fingers and lips and limbs so seamlessly fit together.
Gods, she misses him. She misses them. And she knows—knows—there’s no going back.
Her throat tightens painfully. Still, she makes herself smile, brittle and trembling. "I'm happy for you, Koa," she whispers, and for once, it’s not a lie, even if it costs her everything to say it. "That you finally get your happy ending." It had been Sohalia first after all, and while Flora might be the Doubletake, Sohalia was the Luminary; what was a second-spared glance when compared to the sun?
"Bye.." The tears slip free the moment she turns away—hot, stinging trails that carve their way down her cheeks as she forces herself toward the door without looking back. She doesn’t trust herself to survive it if she does.
~FIN
She doesn’t realize she’s taken a step closer to him until his hand recoils. Until the sudden space between them snaps taut like a frayed rope and leaves her standing there, hollow and stung, blinking against the sharp sting at the backs of her eyes. The moment—the one they’ve both been dancing around for so long—evaporates like morning mist, leaving nothing but the ache of another loss neither of them can touch without bleeding for it.
For a second, Flora just... stands there, anchored in place by the terrible weight of almost. She lets herself look at him properly, because she knows—deep down, knows—this is the last time she’ll get to do it without guilt knotting in her chest. Koa, with his easy, open smile and the warmth that always radiated off him like sunlight through salt-washed windows. Koa, who could carry her weight across the entirety of Torchline just to toss her into the sea and still have the breath to make her laugh afterward. Koa, with the stubborn set of his jaw that only softened when he looked at her like she was the best mistake he ever made.
Even now, with his copper eyes darkened by things unspoken, he’s beautiful in a way that steals her breath; something earnest and steady woven into the strong lines of his face, the boyish curve of his grin still flickering faintly even when everything else is bleeding between them. She remembers teasing him about how badly he danced, about the forest of flowers he'd once left at her door, at the corny and romantic letters in his soldier's scrawl. She remembers moments collapsing against him for unspoken support that he always so freely gave, the way their fingers and lips and limbs so seamlessly fit together.
Gods, she misses him. She misses them. And she knows—knows—there’s no going back.
Her throat tightens painfully. Still, she makes herself smile, brittle and trembling. "I'm happy for you, Koa," she whispers, and for once, it’s not a lie, even if it costs her everything to say it. "That you finally get your happy ending." It had been Sohalia first after all, and while Flora might be the Doubletake, Sohalia was the Luminary; what was a second-spared glance when compared to the sun?
"Bye.." The tears slip free the moment she turns away—hot, stinging trails that carve their way down her cheeks as she forces herself toward the door without looking back. She doesn’t trust herself to survive it if she does.
~FIN
