marked me like a bloodstain
She can still feel the kiss long after Kai's turned away, the memory of it lingering like heat against her lips, not sharp or burning, but warm the way dusk clings to the edges of the sea. As he rises to his feet, retrieving the basket with that familiar surety of his, her breath catches in her chest, just long enough to steady the tremble beneath it. With his back to her, she takes the moment she needs to gather herself—not into composure, exactly, but into something steadier than want. Because gods, she wants to close the distance again, to fall into his lap and let his hands trace the places where she isn’t hurt, to lose herself in the comfort of someone who never asks her to be anything but this. But she’d meant what she said to him, and for the sake of his relationships with Koa and Caly, some pieces of them were meant to be unchanged by what had happened.
When he turns back, the smile she offers him is meant to be a small thing, little more than gratitude curled at the corners of her mouth, but it blooms wider before she can catch it. There’s something about the boyish earnestness of him standing there with that ridiculous basket, the quiet strength of his voice spun out just for her, that loosens the knot in her chest. She glances away, turning her head to the side as though she might keep the smile from spilling further, as though the softness of it might betray her more than everything else already has.
"It’s just cream and bandages," she says at last, the words light with feigned exasperation, though her voice carries the warmth of something far more tender. "Not exactly rocket science." The inside of her cheek finds her teeth as she rises from the ledge of the tub, legs unfolding slowly, carefully, her movements marked by the caution of someone learning their limits all over again. She doesn’t bother reaching for a towel just yet, just pushes the damp silk of her shirt-dress off her hips and lets the hem cling wetly to the tops of her thighs. "I’ve gotta wash what’s left of it off first," she adds, and though the sentence hangs for a beat longer than it should, her tone is softly playful, teasing at the edges.
She lifts her brows as she meets his gaze, something mischievous and familiar dancing behind the blue-green of her eyes. "Go on," she murmurs, tilting her head toward him with the hint of a grin, "turn around."
When he turns back, the smile she offers him is meant to be a small thing, little more than gratitude curled at the corners of her mouth, but it blooms wider before she can catch it. There’s something about the boyish earnestness of him standing there with that ridiculous basket, the quiet strength of his voice spun out just for her, that loosens the knot in her chest. She glances away, turning her head to the side as though she might keep the smile from spilling further, as though the softness of it might betray her more than everything else already has.
"It’s just cream and bandages," she says at last, the words light with feigned exasperation, though her voice carries the warmth of something far more tender. "Not exactly rocket science." The inside of her cheek finds her teeth as she rises from the ledge of the tub, legs unfolding slowly, carefully, her movements marked by the caution of someone learning their limits all over again. She doesn’t bother reaching for a towel just yet, just pushes the damp silk of her shirt-dress off her hips and lets the hem cling wetly to the tops of her thighs. "I’ve gotta wash what’s left of it off first," she adds, and though the sentence hangs for a beat longer than it should, her tone is softly playful, teasing at the edges.
She lifts her brows as she meets his gaze, something mischievous and familiar dancing behind the blue-green of her eyes. "Go on," she murmurs, tilting her head toward him with the hint of a grin, "turn around."
