flora
Flora opens her mouth as if to argue, words already rising sharp and desperate, but Mort’s calm cuts through them like sunlight through glass. That won’t be necessary. It’s enough to unravel her. Her breath stumbles; tears spring up before she even realises they’re there, blurring the god into streaks of gold and white. Whatever else he says becomes distant sound, something beautiful and unreachable.
Because the light is changing again. The door opens wider, spilling its glow across the floor until it feels like the whole room is made of sunlight, and when a figure steps through, her heart forgets how to keep time.
Enzo is exactly as he has always been. The wild brightness of his eyes, that grin too big for his face, the easy, uncontainable energy that once filled every space they were ever in. His curls are still the same deep brown, his jaw still sharply cut, his shoulders still boyishly broad in that way that always made him look like he was about to start laughing at something only he knew. "Enzo—" The word breaks on a sob, part disbelief, part joy, all love.
Flora is already running before she knows it, silk whispering against her legs, bare feet sliding across the floor. The moment she reaches him, she collides into his chest hard enough that it might have hurt if either of them cared. Her arms wrap around him fiercely, greedily, as though she could press him back into the world by force alone. The sob that escapes her is ragged and wild, but she’s laughing through it too, gasping wetly against his neck, fingers fisting in his shirt.
"Oh my gods, Enzo, you’re—" she can’t even finish. Words fall apart against her tears.
Her knees give out before her heart does, and she sinks, pulling him down with her in a heap of cream silk and golden light. Her laughter fractures into another sob, her face pressed against his shoulder, her whole body shaking with the sheer impossibility of it. She keeps saying his name like it’s a spell she’s afraid will break, breathless and choked and giddy: "Enzo, Enzo, Enzo—"
When she finally manages to lift her head, her curls are tangled, her cheeks are streaked, and her hands cup his face as though she can’t stop reassuring herself he’s real. She peppers his cheeks and jaw with trembling kisses, desperate and joyful and aching all at once. "You’re never leaving me again," she manages between them, half-laughing, half-crying, clutching him tighter still. "Do you hear me? Never. Not ever again."
Around them, the candles flicker brighter, the plants lean toward the light, and for the first time in six years, Flora feels incredibly and completely whole.
<3
~FIN
Because the light is changing again. The door opens wider, spilling its glow across the floor until it feels like the whole room is made of sunlight, and when a figure steps through, her heart forgets how to keep time.
Enzo is exactly as he has always been. The wild brightness of his eyes, that grin too big for his face, the easy, uncontainable energy that once filled every space they were ever in. His curls are still the same deep brown, his jaw still sharply cut, his shoulders still boyishly broad in that way that always made him look like he was about to start laughing at something only he knew. "Enzo—" The word breaks on a sob, part disbelief, part joy, all love.
Flora is already running before she knows it, silk whispering against her legs, bare feet sliding across the floor. The moment she reaches him, she collides into his chest hard enough that it might have hurt if either of them cared. Her arms wrap around him fiercely, greedily, as though she could press him back into the world by force alone. The sob that escapes her is ragged and wild, but she’s laughing through it too, gasping wetly against his neck, fingers fisting in his shirt.
"Oh my gods, Enzo, you’re—" she can’t even finish. Words fall apart against her tears.
Her knees give out before her heart does, and she sinks, pulling him down with her in a heap of cream silk and golden light. Her laughter fractures into another sob, her face pressed against his shoulder, her whole body shaking with the sheer impossibility of it. She keeps saying his name like it’s a spell she’s afraid will break, breathless and choked and giddy: "Enzo, Enzo, Enzo—"
When she finally manages to lift her head, her curls are tangled, her cheeks are streaked, and her hands cup his face as though she can’t stop reassuring herself he’s real. She peppers his cheeks and jaw with trembling kisses, desperate and joyful and aching all at once. "You’re never leaving me again," she manages between them, half-laughing, half-crying, clutching him tighter still. "Do you hear me? Never. Not ever again."
Around them, the candles flicker brighter, the plants lean toward the light, and for the first time in six years, Flora feels incredibly and completely whole.
<3
~FIN
you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
