I'm not giving up, kicking off the rust
His toes wiggle, breaking against the surface of the water as she holds either side of one foot. One corner of his mouth twitches with the start of a smile, relieved to tug something playful and warm back into the space between them, however small. He clamps his other foot next to hers, making it a sub sandwich.
All his wiggles stop though, when she creeps back into the hold of his hand, which threads with hers instinctively, the fit familiar. Even the eventual weight of her head on his shoulder is one he recognizes, one he carries gladly. He tips his a bit too, so even their hair can hold each other, building something as close to peace as possible right now.
It's only then, when she has given up bracing, that she explains and he hears all the ways she's begun to crumble into uncertainty and grief. She’d been standing in the sea, believing she could weather every storm — but salt rusts metal, moisture warps wood, and waves wear down even stone. She might have looked okay on the surface, until this piece pulled away and revealed all the damage twisting into seams that should have been sturdy. The thing about living by the ocean... you can't expect anything to last, you just have to be ready to rebuild.
Jack's name fills Kaisel with a sigh, but he swallows it, because the air she used to say it is already fractured, and anything stronger than an exhale could send all the shards scattering into each of them. He just breaths it out, steady as any other, because he knows, or likes to think he does—how much they're still wound. It's a part of what sits between them still, like a boot slid into a door trying to shut. Even now, with all her wavering finality, Jack will always be there. Love leaves a stain, and his might as well be blood for how hard it is to get out.
The weight of what she says next surprises him. The gentle arc of motion his thumb had been tracing on her knee goes still. The Family is going to leave? He turns when she does, holding that seaglass gaze, but where he expected a flash of triumph he just finds something hurt. Flora—gods he wishes he could take all this from her.
More movement and heat starts to edge in at the end, and he wonders if this is her first time saying it all aloud, laying it all out and looking at each broken piece like a puzzle that could be rearranged into something close enough to complete if she wanted.
He doesn’t rush in with platitudes, doesn’t try to solve her tangle all at once. Instead, he pulls his hand from her knee and cups her chin with it, begging her eyes back to his. "Hey," he starts soft, trying to bring her back from the spiral of shit. "You don’t have to pick a place yet. Or a way to be. You don’t have to do any of that alone either." His thumb brushes against her cheek as he pulls some stray hair away from her eyes. "If you wanna move back to your apartment, just let me know and I'll pack up all your boxes. We could park the Sugar Tide above it, best of both. I'll even go take all the sails off Jack's ship so you'll never see him flying around again, tell all the bars to ban him so he'll go linger further away from you. Or, if you just wanna get on the Sugar Tide and sail so far away there's no maps that go out that far, I'll help you steal the wind to make the journey."
Whatever they are, he knows that he will do whatever it takes to unmute her. He doesn't have all the answers, shit is definitely fucked, but he can make sure she doesn't feel so alone trying to figure it out. "You also don't have to belong to a place," he says gently. "You can belong to people. You already do, even if you don't mean to." Something shy tugs at the edges of his lips.
All his wiggles stop though, when she creeps back into the hold of his hand, which threads with hers instinctively, the fit familiar. Even the eventual weight of her head on his shoulder is one he recognizes, one he carries gladly. He tips his a bit too, so even their hair can hold each other, building something as close to peace as possible right now.
It's only then, when she has given up bracing, that she explains and he hears all the ways she's begun to crumble into uncertainty and grief. She’d been standing in the sea, believing she could weather every storm — but salt rusts metal, moisture warps wood, and waves wear down even stone. She might have looked okay on the surface, until this piece pulled away and revealed all the damage twisting into seams that should have been sturdy. The thing about living by the ocean... you can't expect anything to last, you just have to be ready to rebuild.
Jack's name fills Kaisel with a sigh, but he swallows it, because the air she used to say it is already fractured, and anything stronger than an exhale could send all the shards scattering into each of them. He just breaths it out, steady as any other, because he knows, or likes to think he does—how much they're still wound. It's a part of what sits between them still, like a boot slid into a door trying to shut. Even now, with all her wavering finality, Jack will always be there. Love leaves a stain, and his might as well be blood for how hard it is to get out.
The weight of what she says next surprises him. The gentle arc of motion his thumb had been tracing on her knee goes still. The Family is going to leave? He turns when she does, holding that seaglass gaze, but where he expected a flash of triumph he just finds something hurt. Flora—gods he wishes he could take all this from her.
More movement and heat starts to edge in at the end, and he wonders if this is her first time saying it all aloud, laying it all out and looking at each broken piece like a puzzle that could be rearranged into something close enough to complete if she wanted.
He doesn’t rush in with platitudes, doesn’t try to solve her tangle all at once. Instead, he pulls his hand from her knee and cups her chin with it, begging her eyes back to his. "Hey," he starts soft, trying to bring her back from the spiral of shit. "You don’t have to pick a place yet. Or a way to be. You don’t have to do any of that alone either." His thumb brushes against her cheek as he pulls some stray hair away from her eyes. "If you wanna move back to your apartment, just let me know and I'll pack up all your boxes. We could park the Sugar Tide above it, best of both. I'll even go take all the sails off Jack's ship so you'll never see him flying around again, tell all the bars to ban him so he'll go linger further away from you. Or, if you just wanna get on the Sugar Tide and sail so far away there's no maps that go out that far, I'll help you steal the wind to make the journey."
Whatever they are, he knows that he will do whatever it takes to unmute her. He doesn't have all the answers, shit is definitely fucked, but he can make sure she doesn't feel so alone trying to figure it out. "You also don't have to belong to a place," he says gently. "You can belong to people. You already do, even if you don't mean to." Something shy tugs at the edges of his lips.
Kaisel
I keep acting tough but maybe I'm not good enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
