i'd wipe the dirt off your name with the shirt off my back
Flora stepped into the Dusklight like the velvet-draped den had summoned her by name. The hush of flattering light, the perfume of clove and rosewater, the brush of heat against her bare legs—it all settled over her like a second skin. But tonight, she barely noticed it.
Because Sohalia was already at the bar. And she looked…wrecked. Three glasses. One halfway done. Shoulders slumped just enough to scream not okay. Flora’s heart stumbled in her chest—and then kicked harder as the why clicked into place. This was supposed to be the night. The confirmation. The beginning of something new with Koa.
Instead…
Flora drew in a breath that caught like a hook just behind her ribs and let it out through her nose, smoothing her features into something close to effortless. She approached with quiet steps, slid onto the stool beside her friend, and nudged one of the empties gently with a finger. "So," she said, voice light, practiced. "Was this the celebration round or the what the actual fuck round?"
Her smile was small, tilted, tender. She waved down the bartender without looking, tapping the bar with a single gold-ringed knuckle. "Two more of whatever she’s drinking." Then she turned, facing Sohalia fully. Her aqua eyes searched her friend’s face, reading the cracks beneath the surface even as her own pulse beat wild with unspoken things. She swallowed them down. Every ache. Every old bruise Koa’s name threatened to press on; because this wasn’t about her.
"What happened?"
Because Sohalia was already at the bar. And she looked…wrecked. Three glasses. One halfway done. Shoulders slumped just enough to scream not okay. Flora’s heart stumbled in her chest—and then kicked harder as the why clicked into place. This was supposed to be the night. The confirmation. The beginning of something new with Koa.
Instead…
Flora drew in a breath that caught like a hook just behind her ribs and let it out through her nose, smoothing her features into something close to effortless. She approached with quiet steps, slid onto the stool beside her friend, and nudged one of the empties gently with a finger. "So," she said, voice light, practiced. "Was this the celebration round or the what the actual fuck round?"
Her smile was small, tilted, tender. She waved down the bartender without looking, tapping the bar with a single gold-ringed knuckle. "Two more of whatever she’s drinking." Then she turned, facing Sohalia fully. Her aqua eyes searched her friend’s face, reading the cracks beneath the surface even as her own pulse beat wild with unspoken things. She swallowed them down. Every ache. Every old bruise Koa’s name threatened to press on; because this wasn’t about her.
"What happened?"
