Flora
Flora nods softly, the gesture less agreement than resignation, her curls shifting where they cling damply to her cheekbones. She’d been looking for him too, if only in that way someone does when they need to know where not to go, eyes tracing a path around a heartbreak and anger waiting to happen. Her voice is barely above the hush of the city behind them as she murmurs, "I saw you., or at least I think I did. With Caly." With Clay was perhaps unfair, given that it had been a little group of them. Her words unfurl like tissue paper, weightless but already tearing. "She was easy to spot, in that outfit." A humourless breath tries to pass for a laugh.But then she'd seen the rose appear and after grabbing it had disappeared lest anyone try and take it from her, so maybe she'd been wrong.
Kai's next words unravel something far deeper in her, such that her body trembles with the fragile effort of composure, a sharp bite sinking into the inside of her cheek as if she can anchor the sob threatening to break loose. Her gaze tilts skyward, lashes slick with gathering salt, as if the answers might be hiding in the blue above them. "It’s not that simple," she whispers through the tight press of her throat. "I’ve loved Jack for years. It’s been years." The confession comes like an ache scraped raw. "And you—everything with you has been so recent, so bright, so fast."
And yet, in her chest, love for him unfurls anyway, golden and breathless. She told Jack that it wasn’t fair to compare him to Kaisel, and now the thought rises again, unbidden, that the reverse is true too. She won’t weigh Kaisel against someone else’s ghosts. She can’t. But oh, gods—Jack had given her the space to sort out her feelings while she cried in his bed, whereas here Kaisel cradles her with hands that want to wipe away every ache. One gives her space to shatter, the other tries to hold her pieces together. Which is better? Was either?
The sob breaks free as his thumb finds her cheek, featherlight and full of meaning. It shudders through her, her shoulders trembling, her body caving into the warmth of his palms like she might disappear into them. Because that’s the cruelty of friends-to-lovers, isn’t it? She’s loved Kaisel all along, in that teasing, elbow-jabbing, secret-sharing way that feels like safety and sunspun gold. But lately, lately it’s turned molten at the edges—love beginning to gild, to grow teeth, to ask for more. When had the words 'I love you' turned into 'I’m in love with you'? Had it crept in during their sleepover or bloomed quietly between moonlight and laughter? Everyone said this was the right way, the better way. But did Flora even know how to believe in something that wasn’t difficult?
Maybe all those years chasing Jack had twisted her into thinking that if it didn’t hurt, it wasn’t real. That if it wasn't hard it didn't count. Or maybe it had just shown her that things that took time to build were the ones worth keeping.
She gasps softly as his hands tighten around her again, grounding her like storm anchors, steady in their desperation. Her eyes lift, meeting his, and the way they shimmer—like copper struck by lightning—nearly undoes her. His voice cracks, fighting to find its footing even as it pleads with her, and she hears the echo of everything he’s trying to offer. A future. A chance. Them.
It has her tears falling like rain, and though her lips move, trembling as they search for words, no sentence survives intact. "Can we.." she breathes, the whisper barely surviving the tremble of her breath, "can we not do this here?" Her hands shift slightly against his chest, not to push away but to plead. "Please...just somewhere else. Anywhere but here." Because this, this is too sacred for an audience, and too shattered to leave exposed.
Kai's next words unravel something far deeper in her, such that her body trembles with the fragile effort of composure, a sharp bite sinking into the inside of her cheek as if she can anchor the sob threatening to break loose. Her gaze tilts skyward, lashes slick with gathering salt, as if the answers might be hiding in the blue above them. "It’s not that simple," she whispers through the tight press of her throat. "I’ve loved Jack for years. It’s been years." The confession comes like an ache scraped raw. "And you—everything with you has been so recent, so bright, so fast."
And yet, in her chest, love for him unfurls anyway, golden and breathless. She told Jack that it wasn’t fair to compare him to Kaisel, and now the thought rises again, unbidden, that the reverse is true too. She won’t weigh Kaisel against someone else’s ghosts. She can’t. But oh, gods—Jack had given her the space to sort out her feelings while she cried in his bed, whereas here Kaisel cradles her with hands that want to wipe away every ache. One gives her space to shatter, the other tries to hold her pieces together. Which is better? Was either?
The sob breaks free as his thumb finds her cheek, featherlight and full of meaning. It shudders through her, her shoulders trembling, her body caving into the warmth of his palms like she might disappear into them. Because that’s the cruelty of friends-to-lovers, isn’t it? She’s loved Kaisel all along, in that teasing, elbow-jabbing, secret-sharing way that feels like safety and sunspun gold. But lately, lately it’s turned molten at the edges—love beginning to gild, to grow teeth, to ask for more. When had the words 'I love you' turned into 'I’m in love with you'? Had it crept in during their sleepover or bloomed quietly between moonlight and laughter? Everyone said this was the right way, the better way. But did Flora even know how to believe in something that wasn’t difficult?
Maybe all those years chasing Jack had twisted her into thinking that if it didn’t hurt, it wasn’t real. That if it wasn't hard it didn't count. Or maybe it had just shown her that things that took time to build were the ones worth keeping.
She gasps softly as his hands tighten around her again, grounding her like storm anchors, steady in their desperation. Her eyes lift, meeting his, and the way they shimmer—like copper struck by lightning—nearly undoes her. His voice cracks, fighting to find its footing even as it pleads with her, and she hears the echo of everything he’s trying to offer. A future. A chance. Them.
It has her tears falling like rain, and though her lips move, trembling as they search for words, no sentence survives intact. "Can we.." she breathes, the whisper barely surviving the tremble of her breath, "can we not do this here?" Her hands shift slightly against his chest, not to push away but to plead. "Please...just somewhere else. Anywhere but here." Because this, this is too sacred for an audience, and too shattered to leave exposed.
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
