I'm like a titan that's risin'
"No," he says evenly, jaw tight. "I continued to go after Caly, in part, because of you." At the start, Caly had been all him, Flora an already out of reach idea he'd been content to share any time with. After the night on the Sugar Tide, Caly had been a way to prove that nothing had changed. He liked her for her, and wanted to chase down something real when Flora had become a memory he could hold and nothing more. At the House of Midnight though? He would have ended everything to keep Flora, but she'd shoved everything back tenfold, and Caly became another way to show he could move past it all and be a friend.
"You act like I knew what would happen," he snorts. "I thought it wouldn't. I thought I couldn't face Koa with it." He flops his hands against his side, having nothing else left to give, starting to feel the circle of the argument looping back around, each of them somehow no closer to agreement or forgiveness. "I have now, though," he admits with a heavy sigh. He's still breathing, so perhaps all his fantasies of protecting someone had just been cowardice in disguise.
His jaw slackens again as disbelief threatens to run him flat into the ground like a stampede. "Wha—Flora! Gods, I didn't want to keep pushing back when you pushed me away, I thought it'd ruin any chance of still being your friend. I couldn't stand to lose you twice." Yet, for all his attempts, it's feeling like he just might. Each set of words she brandishes next feels like a hand pulling one brick after another from the foundation he thought he'd made so steady. His balance is wavering when pitted against the sway of all her hurt and his uncertainty, freshly raw with each failure she lists out like she's been dutifully keeping score, nearly expectant with it.
"You never said that," is all that manages to slip free of him as more and more cinches up in dread. Needing him, wanting him, she just expected him to know that, what inbetween her kicking their best night into being nothing more than him feeling tired, hopped up on sugar, and horny? "Why didn't you just say that Flora? That would have changed everything."
When she vanishes before his eyes, it sends everything sinking in deep and final. His mouth instantly dries, his fingers grappling at wind and light instead of gold and flowers. He closes his hands back into his jacket, staring after the subtle trail of parting flowers as they bend back towards the Sugar Tide. A swell of such immense sadness nearly makes him step after her, intending to trail along in defeat. Instead, he blinks against the prickle rising in his eyes and firms up the line of his lips. "No!" he calls out after her. "I'm not giving up!" He clenches his teeth, a flare of anger rearing up.
She's going to say all that, and then just call it quits?
"That night on the Sugar Tide? It's the best one of my life. I think about it all the time—I started renting the fancy rooms in the House of Midnight just to fall asleep in the closest imitation of your ship." He crouches down among the flowers, firmly planting his ass around them, barking out memories over their colorful heads. "You smelled so good—lilac? Your moans are my favorite, especially the ones right before you cum, when I had my hand on your clit? I can't tell you how many times that's been a lullaby. But gods, the way you feel Ro, that's the part that really does me in. You're perfect, actually perfect."
He tilts his head back, like he's chasing the unwinding memory. "I mean, every day with you is always the best. I can't eat ice cream without thinking of you now, and I got I think my first ever good tan this past Longheat. I'm amazed by all the things you accomplish constantly. You're a terrible packer though, like one of the worst at moving houses. You make up for it though, with all the ways you love so much. That's why you hold onto every trinket, isn't it? You're hoarding love and memories with every treasure.
"You act like I knew what would happen," he snorts. "I thought it wouldn't. I thought I couldn't face Koa with it." He flops his hands against his side, having nothing else left to give, starting to feel the circle of the argument looping back around, each of them somehow no closer to agreement or forgiveness. "I have now, though," he admits with a heavy sigh. He's still breathing, so perhaps all his fantasies of protecting someone had just been cowardice in disguise.
His jaw slackens again as disbelief threatens to run him flat into the ground like a stampede. "Wha—Flora! Gods, I didn't want to keep pushing back when you pushed me away, I thought it'd ruin any chance of still being your friend. I couldn't stand to lose you twice." Yet, for all his attempts, it's feeling like he just might. Each set of words she brandishes next feels like a hand pulling one brick after another from the foundation he thought he'd made so steady. His balance is wavering when pitted against the sway of all her hurt and his uncertainty, freshly raw with each failure she lists out like she's been dutifully keeping score, nearly expectant with it.
"You never said that," is all that manages to slip free of him as more and more cinches up in dread. Needing him, wanting him, she just expected him to know that, what inbetween her kicking their best night into being nothing more than him feeling tired, hopped up on sugar, and horny? "Why didn't you just say that Flora? That would have changed everything."
When she vanishes before his eyes, it sends everything sinking in deep and final. His mouth instantly dries, his fingers grappling at wind and light instead of gold and flowers. He closes his hands back into his jacket, staring after the subtle trail of parting flowers as they bend back towards the Sugar Tide. A swell of such immense sadness nearly makes him step after her, intending to trail along in defeat. Instead, he blinks against the prickle rising in his eyes and firms up the line of his lips. "No!" he calls out after her. "I'm not giving up!" He clenches his teeth, a flare of anger rearing up.
She's going to say all that, and then just call it quits?
"That night on the Sugar Tide? It's the best one of my life. I think about it all the time—I started renting the fancy rooms in the House of Midnight just to fall asleep in the closest imitation of your ship." He crouches down among the flowers, firmly planting his ass around them, barking out memories over their colorful heads. "You smelled so good—lilac? Your moans are my favorite, especially the ones right before you cum, when I had my hand on your clit? I can't tell you how many times that's been a lullaby. But gods, the way you feel Ro, that's the part that really does me in. You're perfect, actually perfect."
He tilts his head back, like he's chasing the unwinding memory. "I mean, every day with you is always the best. I can't eat ice cream without thinking of you now, and I got I think my first ever good tan this past Longheat. I'm amazed by all the things you accomplish constantly. You're a terrible packer though, like one of the worst at moving houses. You make up for it though, with all the ways you love so much. That's why you hold onto every trinket, isn't it? You're hoarding love and memories with every treasure.
Kaisel
Show you the harder the battle, the harder I fight
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
