is this the end of all the endings?
Her joy is too big for her skin. It pulses beneath her ribs like a song trying to burst out, pressure rising until it swells into her throat, her chest, the spaces behind her eyes and between her teeth, until it feels like the only thing keeping her from floating away entirely is the weight of Kaisel’s hands in hers. There’s no way to say it, no sentence big enough to hold the scale of what she feels. Even if he proposed right now—even if a god descended in glittering light and declared a divine wedding on a beach of stars—none of it would come close. Not to this.; not to how much she wants forever with him. Not to the way everything inside her is echoing yes with such certainty it feels absurd to imagine there was ever a version of the future where it wasn’t him.
When he kisses her knuckles, laughter bubbles up like a popped champagne cork, fragile and glittering and breathless, the only thing her body can offer under the sheer pressure of her joy. It spills out in a shaky little giggle, effervescent and bright, until his mouth finds hers again and she sighs into the kiss like he’s the answer to a question her heart’s been asking since it first learned how to beat.
She doesn’t deepen the kiss; she only wants to stay here, suspended in the warmth of him, the press of his palms, the sweetness of his lips like they’ve been carved out of time just for this. When he pulls back, it’s her turn to remember to breathe. She huffs out a soft, astonished sound, shooting him a look so full of love it could drown, incredulous that he can make her feel this way, like the entire world has stitched itself into shape around them.
Then he mentions a surprise, and her breath escapes on a stunned, delighted laugh, because as if fucking her until she literally felt like a puddle and then saying he wanted to marry her hadn’t already been gift enough. Her whole body beams with the sound, brightness lifting her in every limb. "I can't believe after making me feel like that and not-not proposing, you still expect me to do chores." Beaming at him, she shakes her head and gestures vaguely to her noodle-like limbs. "You’re definitely going to have to help me up," she says, still glowing, still laughing, still looking at him like he’s everything. Because he is, and forever will be.
When he kisses her knuckles, laughter bubbles up like a popped champagne cork, fragile and glittering and breathless, the only thing her body can offer under the sheer pressure of her joy. It spills out in a shaky little giggle, effervescent and bright, until his mouth finds hers again and she sighs into the kiss like he’s the answer to a question her heart’s been asking since it first learned how to beat.
She doesn’t deepen the kiss; she only wants to stay here, suspended in the warmth of him, the press of his palms, the sweetness of his lips like they’ve been carved out of time just for this. When he pulls back, it’s her turn to remember to breathe. She huffs out a soft, astonished sound, shooting him a look so full of love it could drown, incredulous that he can make her feel this way, like the entire world has stitched itself into shape around them.
Then he mentions a surprise, and her breath escapes on a stunned, delighted laugh, because as if fucking her until she literally felt like a puddle and then saying he wanted to marry her hadn’t already been gift enough. Her whole body beams with the sound, brightness lifting her in every limb. "I can't believe after making me feel like that and not-not proposing, you still expect me to do chores." Beaming at him, she shakes her head and gestures vaguely to her noodle-like limbs. "You’re definitely going to have to help me up," she says, still glowing, still laughing, still looking at him like he’s everything. Because he is, and forever will be.
my broken bones are mending
