Honey wherever you go, I know
"As if I'd leave you alone to set a trap," he scoffs, the sound faint around the smile he wears. The long pull of his name out of her is something warm and lovely that sinks into the empty space between the skips of his heart. Normally the extra letters are a precursor to something that'll sting, but there's no scorching anger or chilled disappointment this time, not even the put on ones that lead to a laugh. This one's just petal-soft and flower-sweet.
Each time he quietly braces for her refusal, reaching out carefully into open space and expecting to bump into a pane of glass, but the force of the collision never comes. He can't quite tell if he's made up a maze when he's been in a meadow the whole time. He'd spent so long keeping himself behind the shape of a line, maintaining her as something out of reach, that finding out it's as easy as extending his hand and taking a step, sends him reeling. A small rush in his gut, like stepping off a stair one step earlier than you thought, but still managing to stand on solid ground.
The sprawl of her smile and the transition of her cheeks into something rose gold is enough to keep him always grasping into the unknown, balance be damned. Her hand settled against his shoulder strap, and there's gravity to it that steadies him as his finds her waist, pulling her into the flow of the music with steps too sure to betray the worry that'd just been there. The expanse of her eyes is all he sees now, the wash of the world around them like a separate life that will make space for them to move amongst, because moments stretch on with their own time in the space between two dancers, especially when love is on the line.
"I didn't think you were living to a hundred," he laughs faintly, "and I must say you don't look a day over twenty. Guess frog skin care is worth all the rave reviews." The sound of humor quiets under the weight of what she means, even as he strives to keep them weightless. "You went home with me every night Flora, you just didn't know it." He sends her into a spin away from him for just a breath before tugging her back in. "There's always tonight," he says softly, taking another grasp for glass.
Each time he quietly braces for her refusal, reaching out carefully into open space and expecting to bump into a pane of glass, but the force of the collision never comes. He can't quite tell if he's made up a maze when he's been in a meadow the whole time. He'd spent so long keeping himself behind the shape of a line, maintaining her as something out of reach, that finding out it's as easy as extending his hand and taking a step, sends him reeling. A small rush in his gut, like stepping off a stair one step earlier than you thought, but still managing to stand on solid ground.
The sprawl of her smile and the transition of her cheeks into something rose gold is enough to keep him always grasping into the unknown, balance be damned. Her hand settled against his shoulder strap, and there's gravity to it that steadies him as his finds her waist, pulling her into the flow of the music with steps too sure to betray the worry that'd just been there. The expanse of her eyes is all he sees now, the wash of the world around them like a separate life that will make space for them to move amongst, because moments stretch on with their own time in the space between two dancers, especially when love is on the line.
"I didn't think you were living to a hundred," he laughs faintly, "and I must say you don't look a day over twenty. Guess frog skin care is worth all the rave reviews." The sound of humor quiets under the weight of what she means, even as he strives to keep them weightless. "You went home with me every night Flora, you just didn't know it." He sends her into a spin away from him for just a breath before tugging her back in. "There's always tonight," he says softly, taking another grasp for glass.
Kaisel
I'd give up half of forever, just to be with you
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
