am I stitching up seams, or pulling on triggers?

flora

Flora glances at him and winces, the thought striking her belatedly of what it must be like for him if her mind wandered—even if only to memories she couldn’t quite keep buried. With Koa, the choice had been cleaner, simpler back then; when Jack had finally wanted her, she’d carved out the summer fling with Koa without hesitation, eager to throw herself into a future with the man she’d been pining after since she was seventeen. It hadn’t occurred to her, until now, what kind of weight that kind of wandering might carry for Jack, how even memories might feel like betrayal in the right light.

Her head dips in a soft nod, the line of her shoulders easing as she lets his words settle. Everything he said is reasonable, more than that—it’s fair. She hates the thought of how it must land with him, but she can’t bring herself to regret saying it all aloud. Too much had already been left unsaid between them, silence doing what lies never could: rotting them from the inside until there was nothing left but ruin.

"I know," she whispers, breath catching faintly as she folds her arms around herself again. "Thank you, Jack." The thanks isn't for permission, not for leeway, but for the simple fact that he’d been willing to sit with her in this, to even let her speak it aloud when she knows how much easier it would have been to look away.

you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!