Theea
see the city and the ocean mist
The bite in his voice when I mention the Guild shouldn’t surprise me, but it still knocks the breath sideways. I duck my head and try to swallow the sting. I know so little about the one he and Mom belonged to—only scraps and cautions, stories picked clean down to bone. All the meat of it was pain, and they kept that from me.
His finger hooks under my chin and lifts, and I meet eyes the same color as mine. Some careful part of me knows I’m not meant to shoulder her fears—but after he died—no, after he fell—we learned to carry each other or crumble.
His thumb rasps along my jaw; then his hand folds around mine. I hold his gaze while he says the familiar things I’ve heard a hundred ways: the keeping-me-in-the-dark so I could live to see the light. Safety like a locked room.
When he pulls me in and kisses my hair, I close my eyes and let it sink through skin to bone. I never thought I would have this again. It still feels like it might vanish if I look too hard—except the brace on his leg insists he is here, warm and breathing.
He doesn’t say what I’ve braced for. No plea to run, no order to hide from storms that haven’t broken yet. A crooked smile blooms instead, and when he gives that playful tug to my hair, my eyes flood—this time with relief that tastes almost sweet.
I squeeze his fingers, studying him like a map I’ve crossed before: a little more silver at the temples, a rougher shadow along his jaw. It’s strange, holding grief for a man who stands right in front of me. It feels like a phantom limb—ache and presence all at once.
"Will you and Mom come back here tonight?" I ask softly. "She was going to paint with me tomorrow. Maybe—"
I glance at the door. I’d made up their room when I fixed up mine.
"Maybe stay the night? Your old room’s ready. I didn’t let anyone touch your things." A small smile pulls at my mouth. "I could tell you everything I’ve done. The people I’ve met. I even reconnected with Damien. Remember him? And its the Monster Hunters I joined—the one Ronin founded." I hope that reassures him.
His finger hooks under my chin and lifts, and I meet eyes the same color as mine. Some careful part of me knows I’m not meant to shoulder her fears—but after he died—no, after he fell—we learned to carry each other or crumble.
His thumb rasps along my jaw; then his hand folds around mine. I hold his gaze while he says the familiar things I’ve heard a hundred ways: the keeping-me-in-the-dark so I could live to see the light. Safety like a locked room.
When he pulls me in and kisses my hair, I close my eyes and let it sink through skin to bone. I never thought I would have this again. It still feels like it might vanish if I look too hard—except the brace on his leg insists he is here, warm and breathing.
He doesn’t say what I’ve braced for. No plea to run, no order to hide from storms that haven’t broken yet. A crooked smile blooms instead, and when he gives that playful tug to my hair, my eyes flood—this time with relief that tastes almost sweet.
I squeeze his fingers, studying him like a map I’ve crossed before: a little more silver at the temples, a rougher shadow along his jaw. It’s strange, holding grief for a man who stands right in front of me. It feels like a phantom limb—ache and presence all at once.
"Will you and Mom come back here tonight?" I ask softly. "She was going to paint with me tomorrow. Maybe—"
I glance at the door. I’d made up their room when I fixed up mine.
"Maybe stay the night? Your old room’s ready. I didn’t let anyone touch your things." A small smile pulls at my mouth. "I could tell you everything I’ve done. The people I’ve met. I even reconnected with Damien. Remember him? And its the Monster Hunters I joined—the one Ronin founded." I hope that reassures him.
i wish you could be here for this
