marked me like a bloodstain
The moment the words leave his mouth—they chose to be with you still—something catches in Flora's chest like fabric torn mid-seam. A sob rises but doesn’t crest, caught too tightly in her throat to escape, because they didn’t. Not all of them. Not him. Jack had chosen silence, had chosen distance, had chosen to carve her out of his life like she was a cancer that needed removing before she ruined him entirely. And even though she knows Kaisel means well, that his arms are a harbour and his words are meant to be balm, the ache of it swells inside her all the same. If she’d been quieter, softer, easier—if she hadn’t asked for too much or needed so loudly—maybe Jack wouldn’t have slipped away in the end.
But the argument wilts on her tongue the moment Kaisel’s fingers brush across her cheek. The gentle drag of his thumb, the warmth of his palm against her skin, undoes her in ways words never could. Her aqua gaze lifts and finds his again, luminous and trembling beneath the weight of too much feeling. A single tear spills free, trailing down the curve of her cheek to land on his thumb, glistening like something sacred and ruinous both.
When he tells her he’d rather be wrecked by her, the air leaves her lungs like a wave pulled back to sea. It’s the sweetest thing she’s ever heard, and it’s devastating precisely because she believes him. Believes he means it with every beat of his too-big heart. And gods, that’s the problem. He thinks he can survive her because he’s never taken a step back far enough to see the damage she leaves behind. He’s still standing in the eye of it all, where it’s calm and warm and deceptively safe—but if he drifts even a little to the edge, if he ever turns around to see the wreckage behind her, she knows he’ll find nothing but splinters and salt. Her storms have never left anything standing, whether he chooses to believe that or not.
She opens her mouth to tell him—to warn him, to protect him from her—but before the words can shape themselves, he’s kissing her. It shouldn’t surprise her, not when every part of them fits so easily like this, but it does. Familiarity and shock fold together in the space between their mouths, in the way his fingers curl into the edges of her damp curls, in the way her hand finds his thigh and presses there like she’s grounding herself with touch alone. Her body leans into his with an urgency born of longing and instinct, every part of her turning toward him before her mind can catch up with the why of it all (and perhaps most importantly, the why not).
And then—too soon—there’s a knock at the door.
Flora jumps, the spell shattering with a suddenness that makes her inhale sharply through her nose as she pulls back, blinking as though surfacing from underwater. A woman pokes her head in, polite and calm in a way that feels mildly accusatory, holding a small woven basket full of creams and bandages. Flora straightens just enough to pull her shoulders back, as if guilt alone has made her spine stiffen, and she smooths a strand of hair behind her ear before exhaling, voice touched with breathless embarrassment. "Sorry," she murmurs. "Thank you. Um—Kai can help me with that you don't have to stay."
Her chin tilts toward Kaisel, her expression too composed to be casual and too soft to be convincing. The woman gives her a look that holds both scepticism and understanding, then nods once before quietly stepping out and closing the door behind her.
But the argument wilts on her tongue the moment Kaisel’s fingers brush across her cheek. The gentle drag of his thumb, the warmth of his palm against her skin, undoes her in ways words never could. Her aqua gaze lifts and finds his again, luminous and trembling beneath the weight of too much feeling. A single tear spills free, trailing down the curve of her cheek to land on his thumb, glistening like something sacred and ruinous both.
When he tells her he’d rather be wrecked by her, the air leaves her lungs like a wave pulled back to sea. It’s the sweetest thing she’s ever heard, and it’s devastating precisely because she believes him. Believes he means it with every beat of his too-big heart. And gods, that’s the problem. He thinks he can survive her because he’s never taken a step back far enough to see the damage she leaves behind. He’s still standing in the eye of it all, where it’s calm and warm and deceptively safe—but if he drifts even a little to the edge, if he ever turns around to see the wreckage behind her, she knows he’ll find nothing but splinters and salt. Her storms have never left anything standing, whether he chooses to believe that or not.
She opens her mouth to tell him—to warn him, to protect him from her—but before the words can shape themselves, he’s kissing her. It shouldn’t surprise her, not when every part of them fits so easily like this, but it does. Familiarity and shock fold together in the space between their mouths, in the way his fingers curl into the edges of her damp curls, in the way her hand finds his thigh and presses there like she’s grounding herself with touch alone. Her body leans into his with an urgency born of longing and instinct, every part of her turning toward him before her mind can catch up with the why of it all (and perhaps most importantly, the why not).
And then—too soon—there’s a knock at the door.
Flora jumps, the spell shattering with a suddenness that makes her inhale sharply through her nose as she pulls back, blinking as though surfacing from underwater. A woman pokes her head in, polite and calm in a way that feels mildly accusatory, holding a small woven basket full of creams and bandages. Flora straightens just enough to pull her shoulders back, as if guilt alone has made her spine stiffen, and she smooths a strand of hair behind her ear before exhaling, voice touched with breathless embarrassment. "Sorry," she murmurs. "Thank you. Um—Kai can help me with that you don't have to stay."
Her chin tilts toward Kaisel, her expression too composed to be casual and too soft to be convincing. The woman gives her a look that holds both scepticism and understanding, then nods once before quietly stepping out and closing the door behind her.
