EVEREST
Ever clinked his glass softly against Mateo’s, the gesture precise but not perfunctory—done with care, not just completion. "To trying," he echoed, the words unfamiliar on his tongue in this context, but not unwelcome. He took a sip, exhaled slowly, and let the warmth settle deeper in his chest than the rum could reach.
Mateo’s comment lingered in the air, though—the one about this version of him, the balance. Ever didn’t respond right away. He just glanced at his friend, and something in his expression flickered—not surprise exactly, but maybe a quiet note of relief that someone else had noticed it too. That someone saw this as something worth preserving.
"It’s strange," he said finally, "to feel like myself and still be different. But I think I can live in that space now." His fingers tapped once, lightly, against the side of the glass before stifling a yawn behind the rim of his glass, blinking once—slow and deliberate. "I’m going to bed," he announced, not dramatically, just plainly, the way someone might state the time.
He rose, smoothing the front of his shirt out of habit rather than necessity. "If you want to stay over, you can. I’ve got clean blankets, and you already know where everything is." His tone didn’t press—it was just the extension of something quiet and familiar. A rhythm they’d fallen into more than once before.
Mateo’s comment lingered in the air, though—the one about this version of him, the balance. Ever didn’t respond right away. He just glanced at his friend, and something in his expression flickered—not surprise exactly, but maybe a quiet note of relief that someone else had noticed it too. That someone saw this as something worth preserving.
"It’s strange," he said finally, "to feel like myself and still be different. But I think I can live in that space now." His fingers tapped once, lightly, against the side of the glass before stifling a yawn behind the rim of his glass, blinking once—slow and deliberate. "I’m going to bed," he announced, not dramatically, just plainly, the way someone might state the time.
He rose, smoothing the front of his shirt out of habit rather than necessity. "If you want to stay over, you can. I’ve got clean blankets, and you already know where everything is." His tone didn’t press—it was just the extension of something quiet and familiar. A rhythm they’d fallen into more than once before.
Oh I'm just a house of stones
Somebody hold me steady
Somebody hold me steady
Code stolen from Queen Sky
