I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through
Ever nods as Mateo lays it out, glancing sideways at him when he hears the word vibrant. The adjective doesn’t quite resolve into anything concrete in his mind, but it’s enough of a warning label that he files it away anyway, a quiet note to himself to go into meeting Charlie as calmly and prepared as possible. "That sounds good," he says simply.
The aviator doesn’t flinch when Mateo squeezes his shoulder. If anything, he leans into it just slightly, and his smile in return is small but genuine. "I’m glad," Ever says, meaning all of it; the uncle part, the pride, the steadiness of having Mateo right here beside him while everything else feels like it’s shifting.
The sigh that leaves him at the mention of visiting his mother is quiet but unmistakable, resignation threaded through it rather than dread. Still, he nods and pushes himself to his feet, because this is something that needs doing. From the pocket not occupied by the piece of wood, he pulls out a tennis ball and holds it up between them, his mouth tugging into a sheepish smile. A moment later he's shifting, black fur rippling into place. He lands lightly on four paws, tail already wagging, and lets out an enthusiastic bark—bright, unmistakably pleased—before trotting a small circle.
~FIN
The aviator doesn’t flinch when Mateo squeezes his shoulder. If anything, he leans into it just slightly, and his smile in return is small but genuine. "I’m glad," Ever says, meaning all of it; the uncle part, the pride, the steadiness of having Mateo right here beside him while everything else feels like it’s shifting.
The sigh that leaves him at the mention of visiting his mother is quiet but unmistakable, resignation threaded through it rather than dread. Still, he nods and pushes himself to his feet, because this is something that needs doing. From the pocket not occupied by the piece of wood, he pulls out a tennis ball and holds it up between them, his mouth tugging into a sheepish smile. A moment later he's shifting, black fur rippling into place. He lands lightly on four paws, tail already wagging, and lets out an enthusiastic bark—bright, unmistakably pleased—before trotting a small circle.
~FIN
