Honey wherever you go, I know
They say laughter's the best medicine. It doesn't really fix anything though. Can't close up a hole in your side or dial back a fever. Won't remap ruined nerves or curtail destructive impulses. It just adds a layer of something new over the hurt, covering it up a little until it soaks through. He'd been trying to slot it inbetween the friction, building what could be their new normal into a barrier that everything still sharp could grow dull against.
The bandage of it pulls back with her towel, bruises sitting on stark display. There's nothing left to seal up his pounding thoughts now, knocking with each hammer of his heart on his ribs. This hasn't felt real, yet. Every touch just an attempt to stay beside her through the haze of it all, searching for clearer skies and even ground, the kind he knows is out there if they just keep going. The sort of fog where lines don't matter because you can't see them anyway, but it doesn't make the wandering any less.
It's one thing to be told she'd been with someone else, loved someone else—that feels distant, forgotten, a dream scattering with waking. To see it though, to bear witness to the mark of another man's claim, knowing she didn't heal them so she might admire them like temporary jewelry he'd made just for her, well that just feels like shit. His smile becomes lost.
There's a card deck of thoughts fanning out in his mind. They're still so fresh. Is she gonna regret this choice, choosing him? Is that the way she likes to be loved? Does he actually know how to love her the way she wants?
He flicks his gaze from them to her, teeth set together as a means to hold back the swelling tide of worry. Then her question falls, a twin to the one sitting on his tongue, and he realizes she isn't displaying this necklace as a way to get him to go. She's showing him, in all the ways she can, the broken parts of her and asking him if he actually wants something that she deems a little too ruined. His jaw works once, gaze narrowing, then he claims her his way.
He moves without hesitation, crashing against her, hand fisting at the base of her head as he bends to her mouth. His stride doesn't break, driving her back until the wall at the end of the shower halts them. His affection is unrelenting, intending to suffocate every doubt like this she dares hold, killing it for as long as he can at least. His free hand fumbles for the shower controls, desperate to wash away the grit that keeps rubbing against him, uncaring that his pants are still on.
Those bruises, they'll fade.
The bandage of it pulls back with her towel, bruises sitting on stark display. There's nothing left to seal up his pounding thoughts now, knocking with each hammer of his heart on his ribs. This hasn't felt real, yet. Every touch just an attempt to stay beside her through the haze of it all, searching for clearer skies and even ground, the kind he knows is out there if they just keep going. The sort of fog where lines don't matter because you can't see them anyway, but it doesn't make the wandering any less.
It's one thing to be told she'd been with someone else, loved someone else—that feels distant, forgotten, a dream scattering with waking. To see it though, to bear witness to the mark of another man's claim, knowing she didn't heal them so she might admire them like temporary jewelry he'd made just for her, well that just feels like shit. His smile becomes lost.
There's a card deck of thoughts fanning out in his mind. They're still so fresh. Is she gonna regret this choice, choosing him? Is that the way she likes to be loved? Does he actually know how to love her the way she wants?
He flicks his gaze from them to her, teeth set together as a means to hold back the swelling tide of worry. Then her question falls, a twin to the one sitting on his tongue, and he realizes she isn't displaying this necklace as a way to get him to go. She's showing him, in all the ways she can, the broken parts of her and asking him if he actually wants something that she deems a little too ruined. His jaw works once, gaze narrowing, then he claims her his way.
He moves without hesitation, crashing against her, hand fisting at the base of her head as he bends to her mouth. His stride doesn't break, driving her back until the wall at the end of the shower halts them. His affection is unrelenting, intending to suffocate every doubt like this she dares hold, killing it for as long as he can at least. His free hand fumbles for the shower controls, desperate to wash away the grit that keeps rubbing against him, uncaring that his pants are still on.
Those bruises, they'll fade.
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
