flora
Flora laughs into the curve of Enzo’s chest, her arms still curled around his ribs, utterly and unshakably convinced—for this moment, at least—that he is right. That everything he’s said is true and clear and doable. The problem is that this clarity will be harder to hold onto later. When she’s brushing her teeth alone. When the night is too quiet and her mind too loud. When she finds herself wanting to confess too much to the wrong boy or crawl invisibly into the Ark just to feel the weight of a familiar arm slung over her waist. But that’s later. That’s not now.
Now she’s grinning against his heartbeat, warm and loud beneath her ear, and when he starts shaking her face around like he’s trying to rattle the nonsense out of her skull, she squeals and smacks her hands over his. "Enzo!" she laughs, voice half-horrified, half-adoring. "You really don't care about our old house?" Her words tumble between giggles, even as she beams up at him, radiant with the kind of affection that only ever belongs to him.
He mentions portals. A pool. A plaza. Her eyes widen in real time, hand pressed dramatically to her chest. "Oh my gods, we could build a balcony that overlooks the pool so you can dive straight into it! And like—a conservatory! And a glass house where Mateo can keep deadly plants, with a chaise lounge just for dramatic fainting!" Her imagination spins wildly as it always has, his suggestion becoming an entire fantasy within seconds.
When he brings her hand up and presses it to her chest, she closes her fingers around his without thinking, then lifts it so she can kiss his knuckles, gentle and reverent. "You say all this like you’re not going to help," she murmurs, quiet and certain. " 'Cause I'm absolutely going to make dad bring you back so you can help me pick the best plot of land and argue with me about what kind of tiles go best with mermaid motifs." Or, you know, steer her away from those sorts of gaudy choices.
But the shine in her eyes flickers just a bit at the mention of building something that’s meant to fight the loneliness. Because even now—with the scent of her twin still clinging to her and his laughter still echoing in her bones—she feels the shape of that absence pressing in, the cold left behind by every person she’s loved who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—stay. Jack. Kaisel. Her fingers curl slightly around Enzo’s as the thought hits, the ache catching her off guard. She hasn’t heard from the dragoon in...gods, how long? Long enough that the silence feels pointed. Long enough that she’s starting to think maybe he doesn’t intend to say anything at all, despite how suddenly she'd found him fitting into the shape of her everyday.
Flora swallows, nodding slowly. "Okay," she says at last, her voice quieter but still trying to carry the same hope he’s lit inside her. "I’ll try. I will. I’ll build something bright. Something loud. Something real and totally us." And if it had a rooftop dance floor and all those instant portals? So much the better.
Now she’s grinning against his heartbeat, warm and loud beneath her ear, and when he starts shaking her face around like he’s trying to rattle the nonsense out of her skull, she squeals and smacks her hands over his. "Enzo!" she laughs, voice half-horrified, half-adoring. "You really don't care about our old house?" Her words tumble between giggles, even as she beams up at him, radiant with the kind of affection that only ever belongs to him.
He mentions portals. A pool. A plaza. Her eyes widen in real time, hand pressed dramatically to her chest. "Oh my gods, we could build a balcony that overlooks the pool so you can dive straight into it! And like—a conservatory! And a glass house where Mateo can keep deadly plants, with a chaise lounge just for dramatic fainting!" Her imagination spins wildly as it always has, his suggestion becoming an entire fantasy within seconds.
When he brings her hand up and presses it to her chest, she closes her fingers around his without thinking, then lifts it so she can kiss his knuckles, gentle and reverent. "You say all this like you’re not going to help," she murmurs, quiet and certain. " 'Cause I'm absolutely going to make dad bring you back so you can help me pick the best plot of land and argue with me about what kind of tiles go best with mermaid motifs." Or, you know, steer her away from those sorts of gaudy choices.
But the shine in her eyes flickers just a bit at the mention of building something that’s meant to fight the loneliness. Because even now—with the scent of her twin still clinging to her and his laughter still echoing in her bones—she feels the shape of that absence pressing in, the cold left behind by every person she’s loved who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—stay. Jack. Kaisel. Her fingers curl slightly around Enzo’s as the thought hits, the ache catching her off guard. She hasn’t heard from the dragoon in...gods, how long? Long enough that the silence feels pointed. Long enough that she’s starting to think maybe he doesn’t intend to say anything at all, despite how suddenly she'd found him fitting into the shape of her everyday.
Flora swallows, nodding slowly. "Okay," she says at last, her voice quieter but still trying to carry the same hope he’s lit inside her. "I’ll try. I will. I’ll build something bright. Something loud. Something real and totally us." And if it had a rooftop dance floor and all those instant portals? So much the better.
you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
