Enzo
Mateo seems to take his challenge as a springboard, and Enzo laughs when he spots the tall drink of water he seems intent on sticking the landing in. He calls good luck after his brother-from-another, though whether he hears it - or needs it - is lost from his mind immediately as Flora drags him away by the hand.
The ocean is a murmuring companion when all others fade away, encircling them as it once did in the time-before days. When she releases his hand to twirl in front of him he can’t manage to whistle or croon - only drink her in, breathing in the jasmine and salt and torch-smoke. Not unlike how the air had smelled through the open windows of their shared apartment.
He dips his face into the cup of her palm as she kisses up his cheek, eyes half-lidded but incapable of looking away as he nuzzles into her touch. He can smell the dabs of perfume she’d put on her wrist; it’s new, not the notes he remembers. It suits her, but the reminder of what he’s missed - even this tiny things - still makes him ache a little. A hurt that is only assuaged by the fact he has her now. His fingers intertwine at the small of her back in a comfortable loop, but the strength in his hands could be iron for how hard he’s really holding on.
The shape of her smile on his skin is mirrored by the harsh cut of a frown that his lips twist into. “If he can be called a boy then he didn’t deserve you anyway. You don’t deserve childishness, you’re not a babysitter you’re a babe.” Scoffing, he tosses his curls out of his eyes and can only manage a smile when she pulls away and he can see her again. It’s impossible not to. “You sure we can’t speed up the returns process by having Jack-Off take my place?” He wiggles his eyebrows enticingly, the dimples under her fingertips deepening by the moment. Still, they smooth over too fast as his eyes close, brow wrinkling as he tilts his face forward into her hands, further in her orbit.
“I know we’ve said no excessive boo-hooing whenever I get to visit but - fuck, Flora, it’s hard to know nobody is looking out for you just because I had to go and get myself dead.” His seaglass-green eyes go lined at the edges, the tiniest betrayal of his strain. He can’t even say he was killed, no time to be valiant, just here and gone between breaths. And look where that got her - so beaten down by life that he is stuck waiting on the next visit, only to see her in more and more pieces when he does. It’s torture.
The ocean is a murmuring companion when all others fade away, encircling them as it once did in the time-before days. When she releases his hand to twirl in front of him he can’t manage to whistle or croon - only drink her in, breathing in the jasmine and salt and torch-smoke. Not unlike how the air had smelled through the open windows of their shared apartment.
He dips his face into the cup of her palm as she kisses up his cheek, eyes half-lidded but incapable of looking away as he nuzzles into her touch. He can smell the dabs of perfume she’d put on her wrist; it’s new, not the notes he remembers. It suits her, but the reminder of what he’s missed - even this tiny things - still makes him ache a little. A hurt that is only assuaged by the fact he has her now. His fingers intertwine at the small of her back in a comfortable loop, but the strength in his hands could be iron for how hard he’s really holding on.
The shape of her smile on his skin is mirrored by the harsh cut of a frown that his lips twist into. “If he can be called a boy then he didn’t deserve you anyway. You don’t deserve childishness, you’re not a babysitter you’re a babe.” Scoffing, he tosses his curls out of his eyes and can only manage a smile when she pulls away and he can see her again. It’s impossible not to. “You sure we can’t speed up the returns process by having Jack-Off take my place?” He wiggles his eyebrows enticingly, the dimples under her fingertips deepening by the moment. Still, they smooth over too fast as his eyes close, brow wrinkling as he tilts his face forward into her hands, further in her orbit.
“I know we’ve said no excessive boo-hooing whenever I get to visit but - fuck, Flora, it’s hard to know nobody is looking out for you just because I had to go and get myself dead.” His seaglass-green eyes go lined at the edges, the tiniest betrayal of his strain. He can’t even say he was killed, no time to be valiant, just here and gone between breaths. And look where that got her - so beaten down by life that he is stuck waiting on the next visit, only to see her in more and more pieces when he does. It’s torture.
whether death or distance comes between
there comes a time when everybody leaves
there comes a time when everybody leaves
