Honey wherever you go, I know
There it is, the glass—the same thought every bird has as it breaks its neck.
He sees it too late, the words already out of his mouth, but the shine of it is there in her eyes, just a little bit off from before when it had been open space. She's given him hope like he's never had before though, so the idea that a little too much Windex could ruin this doesn't surface. He'd anticipated more ice, had already steeled himself for weeding through thorns until the garden thrived again, so them missing a step or two on the dance floor is something easy to brush off.
At least, that's what he tries to tell himself as he wills his smile not to fade even as the rhythm starts to. "Oh," he says simply, a subtle tilt finding his head as he let's her slow them both into something that's more drift than dance. "Tomorrow night, then?" he suggests instead, well aware she's got a litany of responsibilities to attend to, proof as much when she barely took the time to recover after her attack. The same reason the night she mentioned feels so long ago already, because she isn't someone to stand idle, filling her days with multiple lifetimes, always full of motion like stopping for an instant might let something catch up.
He knows it's not so simple as it seems though, much as he'd like it to be just a schedule conflict. So he gradually stops them, the world still shut out, trying to settle around the axis they'd just been tilting along. His hand flexes against her waist, like he means to press it in closer, to keep back whatever is about to slip away. Same as he tried to hold onto time that night on the Sugar Tide, only to find it spilling through his fingers into nothing more than memory. Too many nights between them he wish he had done differently.
"I can wait," he says softer still, a whisper that he makes stand stronger, wanting it to be heard even if it has to crawl out raw and fragile. "I've been waiting, Ro." Which had seemed to be part of the problem, but for the first time, he's aware she might be waiting too, trapped on the other side of the divide he carved without meaning to.
He sees it too late, the words already out of his mouth, but the shine of it is there in her eyes, just a little bit off from before when it had been open space. She's given him hope like he's never had before though, so the idea that a little too much Windex could ruin this doesn't surface. He'd anticipated more ice, had already steeled himself for weeding through thorns until the garden thrived again, so them missing a step or two on the dance floor is something easy to brush off.
At least, that's what he tries to tell himself as he wills his smile not to fade even as the rhythm starts to. "Oh," he says simply, a subtle tilt finding his head as he let's her slow them both into something that's more drift than dance. "Tomorrow night, then?" he suggests instead, well aware she's got a litany of responsibilities to attend to, proof as much when she barely took the time to recover after her attack. The same reason the night she mentioned feels so long ago already, because she isn't someone to stand idle, filling her days with multiple lifetimes, always full of motion like stopping for an instant might let something catch up.
He knows it's not so simple as it seems though, much as he'd like it to be just a schedule conflict. So he gradually stops them, the world still shut out, trying to settle around the axis they'd just been tilting along. His hand flexes against her waist, like he means to press it in closer, to keep back whatever is about to slip away. Same as he tried to hold onto time that night on the Sugar Tide, only to find it spilling through his fingers into nothing more than memory. Too many nights between them he wish he had done differently.
"I can wait," he says softer still, a whisper that he makes stand stronger, wanting it to be heard even if it has to crawl out raw and fragile. "I've been waiting, Ro." Which had seemed to be part of the problem, but for the first time, he's aware she might be waiting too, trapped on the other side of the divide he carved without meaning to.
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
