Flora
Flora watches the confusion bloom across Kaisel’s face, settling like stormclouds into the boyish lines she knows too well, turning his copper eyes wild and searching. There is no answer she can give him, no explanation that wouldn’t leave both of them bleeding. And yet she watches, helpless, as all the brightness drains from him, that silly grin and boundless joy evaporating until what remains is hollow and breaking and so, so quiet. It might be the most devastating thing she’s ever seen.
She doesn’t expect him to stagger. Doesn’t expect him to fall.
Her breath catches in her throat as he buckles beneath her, her arms tightening instinctively, but it’s too fast, and they’re hitting the ground before she can stop it. His backpack crumples against the walkway as he sinks, and she follows with him, the healing ring on her finger pulsing weakly in protest. Useless, trying to heal bruises when the real damage is so much deeper, but the heat is there against his shoulder just the same. A few people glance over—someone even calls out, offering to help—but Flora jerks her chin, her voice sharper than she means it to be as she waves them away. Her eyes dart from the stranger’s concern back to Kaisel’s face, where it feels as though everything is now collapsing in slow motion.
"I did, too," she whispers, her voice unsteady as her arms curl in protectively, fingers brushing against his shoulders where her hands have fallen away from his face. "It...started at the masquerade." The words taste ashen in her mouth, guilt welling up as her lashes flutter, cheeks blotched with colour not just from their descent but from the sheer shame of it all, from the selfishness and recklessness that had stolen the chance to do this right. She should have told him sooner. Should have stopped before it got this far. Should have said something before he kissed her. Before he said her name like a promise.
"It was just casual, at first," she says, almost inaudible. Her hands tremble, her body trembling with them. "But after I came back from the Cordillera with you, I saw him again and...he said he wanted to try again."
The tears come quickly now. They prick at her eyes like sea-salt in a wound, burning with every breath she takes. One slips free, carving a hot path down her cheek, and she doesn’t bother to wipe it away. Her gaze lifts slowly, almost fearfully, until her aqua eyes meet his. They shimmer with unspeakable sorrow and something dangerously close to regret, her lips trembling with emotion she can’t name, can’t contain. She wants to say a hundred things: that she didn’t mean to fall into old patterns, that she didn’t think he’d ever really want her like this, that maybe she was just afraid of happiness that felt too easy. But what she says, in a whisper so soft it barely escapes her lips, is: "I told him about you. I told him I was starting to fall in love with you, and that if he'd never said anything, you'd be the one I wanted to be with."
But Jack had said something, and now here they were, crumpled in the street.
She doesn’t expect him to stagger. Doesn’t expect him to fall.
Her breath catches in her throat as he buckles beneath her, her arms tightening instinctively, but it’s too fast, and they’re hitting the ground before she can stop it. His backpack crumples against the walkway as he sinks, and she follows with him, the healing ring on her finger pulsing weakly in protest. Useless, trying to heal bruises when the real damage is so much deeper, but the heat is there against his shoulder just the same. A few people glance over—someone even calls out, offering to help—but Flora jerks her chin, her voice sharper than she means it to be as she waves them away. Her eyes dart from the stranger’s concern back to Kaisel’s face, where it feels as though everything is now collapsing in slow motion.
"I did, too," she whispers, her voice unsteady as her arms curl in protectively, fingers brushing against his shoulders where her hands have fallen away from his face. "It...started at the masquerade." The words taste ashen in her mouth, guilt welling up as her lashes flutter, cheeks blotched with colour not just from their descent but from the sheer shame of it all, from the selfishness and recklessness that had stolen the chance to do this right. She should have told him sooner. Should have stopped before it got this far. Should have said something before he kissed her. Before he said her name like a promise.
"It was just casual, at first," she says, almost inaudible. Her hands tremble, her body trembling with them. "But after I came back from the Cordillera with you, I saw him again and...he said he wanted to try again."
The tears come quickly now. They prick at her eyes like sea-salt in a wound, burning with every breath she takes. One slips free, carving a hot path down her cheek, and she doesn’t bother to wipe it away. Her gaze lifts slowly, almost fearfully, until her aqua eyes meet his. They shimmer with unspeakable sorrow and something dangerously close to regret, her lips trembling with emotion she can’t name, can’t contain. She wants to say a hundred things: that she didn’t mean to fall into old patterns, that she didn’t think he’d ever really want her like this, that maybe she was just afraid of happiness that felt too easy. But what she says, in a whisper so soft it barely escapes her lips, is: "I told him about you. I told him I was starting to fall in love with you, and that if he'd never said anything, you'd be the one I wanted to be with."
But Jack had said something, and now here they were, crumpled in the street.
I hope you're sweating the bigger stuff,
finding some peace in an honest love
Hope you stop when you've had enough & throw the towel in
finding some peace in an honest love
Hope you stop when you've had enough & throw the towel in
Code stolen from Queen Sky
