EVEREST
"Three is perfect," he says, storing the time away like a vital piece of flight data, the kind of detail that keeps everything else steady. As for Mateo, Everest can only tilt his head and nod. "He both worked very hard on his outfit but also seemed to come up with it at the last moment." Which, contrary as that might be, fit the botanist's MO perfectly.
His thumb brushes lightly along the curve of Isla’s knuckle, deliberate but not overly so. The pressure isn’t flirtatious; it’s grounding. Familiar.
And yet, at her final words, he stills—just for a moment. Not out of discomfort, but surprise. His gaze lifts to hers, and though his mouth doesn’t move at first, his expression softens in a way that makes the rest of the party seem very far away. "Well," he says at last, quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching with a subtle smile. "If it helps, I am tempted to let you." A pause, and then: "But I don’t want this version of me to rush anything. I want you to know him first." There’s no shame in it, no apology. Just steady clarity, calm and real. His grip doesn't tighten, but it doesn't loosen either—just a quiet tether between them.
Then, with a breath, he murmurs, "But...I’d like it if you were tempted again tomorrow."
His thumb brushes lightly along the curve of Isla’s knuckle, deliberate but not overly so. The pressure isn’t flirtatious; it’s grounding. Familiar.
And yet, at her final words, he stills—just for a moment. Not out of discomfort, but surprise. His gaze lifts to hers, and though his mouth doesn’t move at first, his expression softens in a way that makes the rest of the party seem very far away. "Well," he says at last, quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching with a subtle smile. "If it helps, I am tempted to let you." A pause, and then: "But I don’t want this version of me to rush anything. I want you to know him first." There’s no shame in it, no apology. Just steady clarity, calm and real. His grip doesn't tighten, but it doesn't loosen either—just a quiet tether between them.
Then, with a breath, he murmurs, "But...I’d like it if you were tempted again tomorrow."
the boards will still creak
the leaves will still die
the leaves will still die
