Kaisel
One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave
One foot in the grave
She's still turning the broken bits into herself. Pressing them until something bleeds like she deserves that shade of red over all the cherry and blush she's otherwise accustomed to. He doesn't respond. Doesn't want to keep adding edges for her to use against herself, because she manages to find a corner even on something he thought time had long dulled. It's a reminder to him that he's poking his nose in business that's out of his depth. He doesn't know the intricacies of their relationships, hell he doesn't even know a sliver of the pain they've all felt or inflicted. He's just a boy on a boat trying to figure out why his friend and his cousin who claim they love each other, can't seem to get over themselves enough to do anything with that love.
Instead, he focuses on the hug. In trying to communicate every ounce of affection he has for her with the squeeze of it. Can she feel it? Every bit of belief and determination that he has that she is more than just every past regret she holds onto?
Kai, don't—
The knot of her arms against his neck is at odds with her choked plea, and he hesitates for a second, pulling back slightly, uncertain what she's asking him to not do. Not hug her? She hugged him back. Not...touch her? Is he about to cross some line again, about to push her into something she can't pull away from, something worse than pasty-covered nipples in the sun? His 'brow furrows, confusion and concern in equal parts seizing him. He's never had to doubt a thing when by her side, but he's never delved into her hardships like this either.
He exhales steadily into her hair and grips her tighter again, just for a moment. Then he sweeps one arm down to grab her under her legs, at the bend of her knee where she couldn't really resist the tug easily, and dropped a bit at the same time, so that as he stood back up he could pull her feet with the movement and sweep her into his arms fully. No resistance permitted. He'll face this shit with her and he'll make sure he pulls her out the other side of it. "Don't do this to yourself," he warns her. "Don't act like you're the source of everything awful. You. Are. Loved. Deeply, by many, and I know you love just as strongly in return."
Instead, he focuses on the hug. In trying to communicate every ounce of affection he has for her with the squeeze of it. Can she feel it? Every bit of belief and determination that he has that she is more than just every past regret she holds onto?
Kai, don't—
The knot of her arms against his neck is at odds with her choked plea, and he hesitates for a second, pulling back slightly, uncertain what she's asking him to not do. Not hug her? She hugged him back. Not...touch her? Is he about to cross some line again, about to push her into something she can't pull away from, something worse than pasty-covered nipples in the sun? His 'brow furrows, confusion and concern in equal parts seizing him. He's never had to doubt a thing when by her side, but he's never delved into her hardships like this either.
He exhales steadily into her hair and grips her tighter again, just for a moment. Then he sweeps one arm down to grab her under her legs, at the bend of her knee where she couldn't really resist the tug easily, and dropped a bit at the same time, so that as he stood back up he could pull her feet with the movement and sweep her into his arms fully. No resistance permitted. He'll face this shit with her and he'll make sure he pulls her out the other side of it. "Don't do this to yourself," he warns her. "Don't act like you're the source of everything awful. You. Are. Loved. Deeply, by many, and I know you love just as strongly in return."
It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor
It's just your shadow on the floor
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
