i can't help it if i want to kiss you in the rain, so
Flora’s brows lift in a playful bounce, warmth rippling through her expression as she studies the boy with an ease that only grows the longer they stand together. "Well, the good news," she says lightly, tipping her head toward the top shelves stacked high with glittering cellophane, "is that if you ever get tired of not being able to reach things, you can always do it again." A little shrug follows, casual and amused, as though she’s offering him an insider trick rather than existential advice on skirting aging.
When he asks if she was okay—if the adjustment was fine, if she managed—her smile softens around the edges. She shifts the weight of her basket to her hip, curls slipping forward as she inclines her head toward him. "It was easier having a twin to go through it with, not gonna lie," she admits, tone warm but threaded with something quieter, a faint shimmer of memory she keeps mostly tucked away. "But honestly? The only important thing to know is that no one ever really knows what they’re doing."
She leans a little closer, lowering her voice just enough to make it feel like something he’s meant to hold onto. "If you see other kids and think you’re missing out, or that they know something you don’t?" She shakes her head gently, curls brushing her cheeks. "Everyone feels that way. Even the ones who didn’t age up. Even grown-ups. They’re just better at pretending."
The moment stretches warmly between them before she starts adding each of his recommendations into her basket, the malted milk balls, the fudge, anything he pointed at with enthusiasm. The sweets rustle as they settle, a little avalanche of indulgence and good intentions. "I definitely have a sweet tooth," she says with a grin that curves bright and teasing, "but my boyfriend has a whole sweet mouth. If it’s covered in sugar, he’ll inhale it."
She turns to the shelves, nodding at Erebos. "Go on," she says warmly. "Grab a few for yourself. My treat. Payment for your expert guidance."
When he asks if she was okay—if the adjustment was fine, if she managed—her smile softens around the edges. She shifts the weight of her basket to her hip, curls slipping forward as she inclines her head toward him. "It was easier having a twin to go through it with, not gonna lie," she admits, tone warm but threaded with something quieter, a faint shimmer of memory she keeps mostly tucked away. "But honestly? The only important thing to know is that no one ever really knows what they’re doing."
She leans a little closer, lowering her voice just enough to make it feel like something he’s meant to hold onto. "If you see other kids and think you’re missing out, or that they know something you don’t?" She shakes her head gently, curls brushing her cheeks. "Everyone feels that way. Even the ones who didn’t age up. Even grown-ups. They’re just better at pretending."
The moment stretches warmly between them before she starts adding each of his recommendations into her basket, the malted milk balls, the fudge, anything he pointed at with enthusiasm. The sweets rustle as they settle, a little avalanche of indulgence and good intentions. "I definitely have a sweet tooth," she says with a grin that curves bright and teasing, "but my boyfriend has a whole sweet mouth. If it’s covered in sugar, he’ll inhale it."
She turns to the shelves, nodding at Erebos. "Go on," she says warmly. "Grab a few for yourself. My treat. Payment for your expert guidance."
