Honey wherever you go, I know
"I was looking for you there," he objects with a broken sound. Not his voice, surely, something too ruined to be that. "I found Soh, I was asking her about your letters and what—what happened." Because for all the ways Flora had been upset at his distance, for leaving, she had done nothing to cross it either. She had written rage and called it done, then run right back to the person that hurt her most like that was the only place she could ever be comfortable.
The confusion has long since splintered into hurt, winding in deeper with each passing moment, each exchanged word. He has a general idea now of how Caly felt to her, and maybe that'd been part of her attempt, to turn the hurt he'd inflicted back around on him like a blade they'd just keep passing back and forth carelessly. That he didn't mean to doesn't make the edge cut any less.
He draws in a shaky breath, searching for some solid ground, but everything's still got a subtle spin. He looks for it amongst her, but the words she's saying, the ones that are sounding like goodbye wrapped careful and slow, they don't match all the grief that pulls and tugs at her like she doesn't want to actually hand them over to him. So nothing settles firm or steady. "So you won't give us a chance, but you'll give him even more?" It comes out low, taut with terror, not certain he wants the answer, not something so final when he can keep trying to find the glimmer of gold through all this mud.
The fear has well and truly settled now, because what does this mean? Has he finally lost her, despite all his attempts at the opposite? All his stupid, naïve beliefs that he would never, because he thought they had something too worth holding onto for either of them to ever let go.
He reaches up with a thumb to wipe the tear that starts to course down her cheek, even as his own have begun to gather in the corners of his eyes, too blurry now to see her properly. "Don't cry, Ro. It'll wash off all your product." He sighs softly, as if he has the breath to spare, but he's always hated to see her so sad.
He didn't think it could hurt worse than this, but the last thing she says feels like she's not content to wound him, she means to kill him. The slow personal way too, where she smothers him under her almost love like a pair of hands holding his airways, gradually watching all the fight suffocate out of him, the last light dim from his eyes. Why tell him any of this? Why offer explanations around flowers to clear air she means to never let him breathe again? Why allow him to laugh and hold and kiss her, just to tell him it's all only an almost? If this is guilt she needs him to bear, he will. He’ll carry every ounce until it breaks him, if it means she can feel light enough to actually love him back.
His hands tighten suddenly against her sides, like remembering their strength. “Then tell him something else. Tell him no.” His voice breaks but steadies again, desperate, unyielding. “I want us to try.”
The confusion has long since splintered into hurt, winding in deeper with each passing moment, each exchanged word. He has a general idea now of how Caly felt to her, and maybe that'd been part of her attempt, to turn the hurt he'd inflicted back around on him like a blade they'd just keep passing back and forth carelessly. That he didn't mean to doesn't make the edge cut any less.
He draws in a shaky breath, searching for some solid ground, but everything's still got a subtle spin. He looks for it amongst her, but the words she's saying, the ones that are sounding like goodbye wrapped careful and slow, they don't match all the grief that pulls and tugs at her like she doesn't want to actually hand them over to him. So nothing settles firm or steady. "So you won't give us a chance, but you'll give him even more?" It comes out low, taut with terror, not certain he wants the answer, not something so final when he can keep trying to find the glimmer of gold through all this mud.
The fear has well and truly settled now, because what does this mean? Has he finally lost her, despite all his attempts at the opposite? All his stupid, naïve beliefs that he would never, because he thought they had something too worth holding onto for either of them to ever let go.
He reaches up with a thumb to wipe the tear that starts to course down her cheek, even as his own have begun to gather in the corners of his eyes, too blurry now to see her properly. "Don't cry, Ro. It'll wash off all your product." He sighs softly, as if he has the breath to spare, but he's always hated to see her so sad.
He didn't think it could hurt worse than this, but the last thing she says feels like she's not content to wound him, she means to kill him. The slow personal way too, where she smothers him under her almost love like a pair of hands holding his airways, gradually watching all the fight suffocate out of him, the last light dim from his eyes. Why tell him any of this? Why offer explanations around flowers to clear air she means to never let him breathe again? Why allow him to laugh and hold and kiss her, just to tell him it's all only an almost? If this is guilt she needs him to bear, he will. He’ll carry every ounce until it breaks him, if it means she can feel light enough to actually love him back.
His hands tighten suddenly against her sides, like remembering their strength. “Then tell him something else. Tell him no.” His voice breaks but steadies again, desperate, unyielding. “I want us to try.”
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
