Flora
She feels him tremble beneath her and senses the fragile pause in his hands, the way his touch hovers as if unsure whether to hold on or let go, as if the question still lingers on his lips despite the kiss. But words are a thing she’s run dry of. She’s spent so long measuring them, shaping them into something fair, something strong, something right—until now, when all that’s left are her hands on his face, her body folding down into his lap like a plea, like an answer, like the only truth she has left.
Her thumbs move in slow, aching arcs across his jaw as if carving a memory she refuses to lose; Kaisel, who never asked her to shine brighter or smaller, who never reached for her with strings in his hands. Kaisel, who loved her in all the loud and ridiculous and wordless ways long before either of them knew the shape of it. There are words she knows she owes him—apologies that still ache in her throat, truths she hasn’t figured out how to say. Boundaries she knows she’ll need to set, for his sake as much as hers. But none of them come, not now. Her tongue just sketches the shape of them against his, a silent language of grief and want and everything she can’t put into sentences.
When she finally draws back, it’s only enough to breathe. A breath that still hitches, still trembles. Her gaze finds his, soft and radiant despite the salt and sorrow in it, and for the first time today her smile reaches the corners of her mouth.
Her thumbs sweep the wet from his cheekbones, catching salt she can’t quite tell is his or hers—the distinction irrelevant now—because even through the ache, even through the tremble still threaded through her hands, there is a peace beginning to settle at the edges of it all. Fragile, yes, but real. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her thumbs move in slow, aching arcs across his jaw as if carving a memory she refuses to lose; Kaisel, who never asked her to shine brighter or smaller, who never reached for her with strings in his hands. Kaisel, who loved her in all the loud and ridiculous and wordless ways long before either of them knew the shape of it. There are words she knows she owes him—apologies that still ache in her throat, truths she hasn’t figured out how to say. Boundaries she knows she’ll need to set, for his sake as much as hers. But none of them come, not now. Her tongue just sketches the shape of them against his, a silent language of grief and want and everything she can’t put into sentences.
When she finally draws back, it’s only enough to breathe. A breath that still hitches, still trembles. Her gaze finds his, soft and radiant despite the salt and sorrow in it, and for the first time today her smile reaches the corners of her mouth.
Her thumbs sweep the wet from his cheekbones, catching salt she can’t quite tell is his or hers—the distinction irrelevant now—because even through the ache, even through the tremble still threaded through her hands, there is a peace beginning to settle at the edges of it all. Fragile, yes, but real. "I'm not going anywhere."
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
