I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through
Ever blinks down at his hands, fingers loosely laced together in his lap, and gives a small, uncertain shrug. "I'm not sure, actually," he says, because it’s the most honest answer he has. "Because Isla is an Ancient, it could be faster than normal, or slower." His brows knit faintly as he considers it. "We don’t really know yet." The unknown sits there between them, not frightening so much as uncharted, and Ever has never been especially fond of maps with blank spaces.
When Mateo tells him he’s proud, Ever’s shoulders draw in instinctively, a flush creeping up his neck as he glances over at his friend rather than meeting his eyes head-on. Praise has always been harder to accept than criticism, harder to file away neatly without it snagging. "I..." He exhales, then shakes his head slightly. "I have you to thank for a lot of it," Ever says instead, earnest and unembellished. "If you hadn't gone to Frey for that quest for me, I think most of this would still feel very impossible." He doesn’t need to specify what this is; the life he’s built feels fragile enough without naming every part of it.
After a brief hesitation, Ever reaches out and takes one of Mateo’s hands, squeezing it once, firm but quick. "Thank you," he says simply, before withdrawing his hand and folding both of them back into his lap, posture settling again as if he’s carefully put something important where it belongs.
When Mateo tells him he’s proud, Ever’s shoulders draw in instinctively, a flush creeping up his neck as he glances over at his friend rather than meeting his eyes head-on. Praise has always been harder to accept than criticism, harder to file away neatly without it snagging. "I..." He exhales, then shakes his head slightly. "I have you to thank for a lot of it," Ever says instead, earnest and unembellished. "If you hadn't gone to Frey for that quest for me, I think most of this would still feel very impossible." He doesn’t need to specify what this is; the life he’s built feels fragile enough without naming every part of it.
After a brief hesitation, Ever reaches out and takes one of Mateo’s hands, squeezing it once, firm but quick. "Thank you," he says simply, before withdrawing his hand and folding both of them back into his lap, posture settling again as if he’s carefully put something important where it belongs.
