flora
Eventually, Flora's thoughts sputter out the way candle flames do when they’ve eaten through all the wax, a final restless flicker before going soft and quiet. She sinks against him like a tide rolling back, boneless now, curls spilling over his chest as sleep finally pulls her under.
When Jack stirs, Flora doesn’t rise with him; if anything, she digs in deeper. A sleepy protest slips out of her, muffled against his skin, more pout than actual argument. The sunlight sneaking in through the cabin windows earns nothing but a dramatic groan, and she tries to burrow her way further into the warmth at his side as though that alone might prevent time from ticking on and hard conversations from being had.
"No," she mumbles stubbornly, the word barely more than a puff of air. Her arm slides around his middle like her body has its own ideas, clinging for an instant before she twists onto her stomach, cheek pressed against the sheets. It’s childishly defiant, the way she shields her face with her curls, like she could simply cuddle her way into freezing time if she really meant it.
When Jack stirs, Flora doesn’t rise with him; if anything, she digs in deeper. A sleepy protest slips out of her, muffled against his skin, more pout than actual argument. The sunlight sneaking in through the cabin windows earns nothing but a dramatic groan, and she tries to burrow her way further into the warmth at his side as though that alone might prevent time from ticking on and hard conversations from being had.
"No," she mumbles stubbornly, the word barely more than a puff of air. Her arm slides around his middle like her body has its own ideas, clinging for an instant before she twists onto her stomach, cheek pressed against the sheets. It’s childishly defiant, the way she shields her face with her curls, like she could simply cuddle her way into freezing time if she really meant it.
you're 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
