yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about
Flora wrinkles her nose, the thought of Kai curled against her wall slipping past her notice leaving a sour twist in her stomach. Ordinarily, she’d have seized on it, argued the impossibility, laughed at his nerve, poked holes in every flimsy detail until he was the one floundering. But the ache in her chest is too sharp for even her argumentative nature to overcome. She can’t find her footing in the familiar rhythm of their banter, not when her hurt keeps pressing to the surface, raw and insistent, demanding all of her attention.
Her arms twitch tighter across her chest, the oversized sweater bunching at her elbows until it feels like she’s holding herself in a cage. The motion isn’t graceful; it’s defensive, brittle, the body betraying the hurt she staunchly refuses to admit. "Nothing’s going on," she says, but the words taste sour even as they leave her tongue, just as they had done in the letters she'd sent; a half-truth sharpened into a shield. Her gaze skims him once, fast and cutting, before slipping away again, unwilling to linger where it might soften.
"The things you’ve done.." Her throat works, swallowing back everything she wants to say. Her voice comes out low, flat with effort, but steady enough to keep from breaking. "They made me feel like shit. And I’m not going to let you do it anymore." Her chin tips higher, a fragile mimicry of poise, as if sheer stubbornness might keep her heart from spilling through the cracks. "That’s it. That’s the end."
Her arms twitch tighter across her chest, the oversized sweater bunching at her elbows until it feels like she’s holding herself in a cage. The motion isn’t graceful; it’s defensive, brittle, the body betraying the hurt she staunchly refuses to admit. "Nothing’s going on," she says, but the words taste sour even as they leave her tongue, just as they had done in the letters she'd sent; a half-truth sharpened into a shield. Her gaze skims him once, fast and cutting, before slipping away again, unwilling to linger where it might soften.
"The things you’ve done.." Her throat works, swallowing back everything she wants to say. Her voice comes out low, flat with effort, but steady enough to keep from breaking. "They made me feel like shit. And I’m not going to let you do it anymore." Her chin tips higher, a fragile mimicry of poise, as if sheer stubbornness might keep her heart from spilling through the cracks. "That’s it. That’s the end."
real big things I still gotta figure out
