// Start a tiny riot //
He wakes slowly, blinking into the golden glow that spreads across the surfaces she’s collected in her room, the light ricocheting gently from edge to edge like a game of tag. He hadn’t slept enough, but the dregs of it dissolve like cotton candy in water—and despite the short supply, he feels more rested than he has in ages.
He stretches against the length of her, body rolling without escaping, and he hopes he manages it without disturbing her. It’s his one last lingering moment to hold her like this. As his, even if only in the hush between night and reality. Unlike the last time, when the dawn light had shielded all the prior night's slips, this morning's golden spill highlights them. He exhales deeply at the recognition of that, at the things that have shifted under the weight of holding her. If it could be easy, if it could just be them, he'd lay here beside her all into the next night, and love her all over again.
It's not just them though, and nothing is simple enough to defeat by staying in bed.
He doesn’t consider it a mistake. He could never regret her, but there's no denying the choice he made and the ripples that sends through to the other people he cares about. "You awake?" he asks softly, barely able to say it, not really wanting to. Couldn't they stretch this longer? This hardly feels like long enough.
His arm slides down the one she's tossed over him, fingers trailing against the underside of it and across her ribs, tender and cautious. The certainty of last night—the surety of her, of them—begins to retreat beneath something shakier. Something afraid to reach for more than what was already given. Last night, it had felt like enough. Today? It feels far too little, and equally entirely too much.
He stretches against the length of her, body rolling without escaping, and he hopes he manages it without disturbing her. It’s his one last lingering moment to hold her like this. As his, even if only in the hush between night and reality. Unlike the last time, when the dawn light had shielded all the prior night's slips, this morning's golden spill highlights them. He exhales deeply at the recognition of that, at the things that have shifted under the weight of holding her. If it could be easy, if it could just be them, he'd lay here beside her all into the next night, and love her all over again.
It's not just them though, and nothing is simple enough to defeat by staying in bed.
He doesn’t consider it a mistake. He could never regret her, but there's no denying the choice he made and the ripples that sends through to the other people he cares about. "You awake?" he asks softly, barely able to say it, not really wanting to. Couldn't they stretch this longer? This hardly feels like long enough.
His arm slides down the one she's tossed over him, fingers trailing against the underside of it and across her ribs, tender and cautious. The certainty of last night—the surety of her, of them—begins to retreat beneath something shakier. Something afraid to reach for more than what was already given. Last night, it had felt like enough. Today? It feels far too little, and equally entirely too much.
Kaisel
// Stop being so goddamn quiet //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
