flora
Flora barely reacts when Jack dismisses the flask, having more or less expected it, the hope flickering out as quietly as it had sparked. She draws her hand back, tucks the flask safely into her pocket, and feels the faint prickle of foolishness settle under her skin for having offered anything at all.
She watches him instead, the way he rolls his sleeve up, the flash of ink and starlit magic at his wrist, the purposeful way he turns toward the window like anywhere in the world is preferable to the space he shares with her now. The bite in his voice makes her flinch despite herself, breath catching hard in her chest even though she knew it was coming, even though hearing her name like that still feels like having the air knocked out of her. He doesn't tell her to fuck off, though, which is something.
Flora does not have time to think given the way The Captain already feels half gone and with the words already pressing too hard against her ribs to be contained any longer, so she lets them spill out, wondering how much rope he'll let her have before he hangs her with it. "You deserved better than a letter," she says, heart hammering so loudly she is half-sure he can hear it. "It was a cowardly thing to do, and you deserved better than that after everything we—" Her voice falters, heat rushing into her cheeks as the months of guilt and grief burn hot and immediate, no longer safely packed away, threatening to burn her from the inside out.
Her aqua eyes shine, tears shiny and painful, and she swallows hard around the ache in her throat, knowing this will never sound the way it needs to, knowing it will never carry all of it; not the locked room, not the way his leaving Torchline had broken her heart, not his voice in every storm, or the way she'd do it differently if she could do it over. Still, she says it anyway, soft and raw and utterly unguarded. "I’m so sorry, Jack, and—"
She watches him instead, the way he rolls his sleeve up, the flash of ink and starlit magic at his wrist, the purposeful way he turns toward the window like anywhere in the world is preferable to the space he shares with her now. The bite in his voice makes her flinch despite herself, breath catching hard in her chest even though she knew it was coming, even though hearing her name like that still feels like having the air knocked out of her. He doesn't tell her to fuck off, though, which is something.
Flora does not have time to think given the way The Captain already feels half gone and with the words already pressing too hard against her ribs to be contained any longer, so she lets them spill out, wondering how much rope he'll let her have before he hangs her with it. "You deserved better than a letter," she says, heart hammering so loudly she is half-sure he can hear it. "It was a cowardly thing to do, and you deserved better than that after everything we—" Her voice falters, heat rushing into her cheeks as the months of guilt and grief burn hot and immediate, no longer safely packed away, threatening to burn her from the inside out.
Her aqua eyes shine, tears shiny and painful, and she swallows hard around the ache in her throat, knowing this will never sound the way it needs to, knowing it will never carry all of it; not the locked room, not the way his leaving Torchline had broken her heart, not his voice in every storm, or the way she'd do it differently if she could do it over. Still, she says it anyway, soft and raw and utterly unguarded. "I’m so sorry, Jack, and—"
you're 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
