flora
Flora shakes her head immediately—sharply, almost frantic—like the thought alone has burned her. "I’ll get rid of it," she whispers, the words tumbling out too fast, like they’ve been pried loose instead of offered. "I’ll—gods, I will. As soon as we get home."
It had never been meant to stay, not once things had ended, but it had been easier to leave the door shut than to open it and drag everything inside into the light. That room was full of things that weren’t sharp until you touched them. Memories packed in quiet boxes that still smelled like sea salt and rum. Shadows that only moved when you looked directly at them. And she hadn’t wanted to look, hadn’t known how. For all their talk of taking things slow, she and Kaisel had set their world on fire the moment they’d touched. They’d built forever with matchsticks and laughter, skipped steps and didn’t look back. And somewhere in the rush of joy, in the dizzied certainty of loving him, Flora had just...assumed there would be time. Time to clear out the corners, time to mourn the old versions of herself, time to let the grief stop aching like a phantom limb. But of course, the room isn't just a room to Kai; it’s a shrine. A ghost. A reminder that her heart has held too many names, and not all of them are gone and gods what an idiot she is.
As Kaisel reaches up to hold her face, her expression crumples beneath his touch, fragile and bruised, like a petal that’s been stepped on. Everything she thought she knew so well—us, this, him—feels suddenly blurred at the edges. She presses her cheek helplessly into his palm, not because it soothes her, but because she doesn’t know where else to go. When he guides her to the floor, something in her lets out a half-whimper, half-laugh, the sound thin and glassy. She can see how hard he’s trying, but the frost from seeing Jack inside her is thick, and the way it doesn’t melt right away makes the ache in her chest double down. It should be easy, the way it always is with him, but today nothing is easy, and that only breaks her more.
She folds down with him, knees bare and trembling, settling into a half-collapsed sprawl against his leg. Her body bends inward again, arms loose around her shins, fingers twitching like they’re looking for something to hold on to that isn’t falling apart. When he asks to hear it all, it almost feels impossible. The story’s too big, too heavy, full of too many silences that aren’t hers anymore. But she closes her eyes and breathes, and breathes again, trying to stack the pieces in order.
"The whole time," she says, her voice barely above a breath. "But I didn’t always know." She stares at the cabinets across from them, not really seeing them, her voice distant now; somewhere out on the beach where the waves had rolled a secret straight into her lap. "He told me one day, sort of by accident. He was sick. and half delirious and he ended up replying to something I'd only thought and not said." Her throat bobs with the effort it takes to keep talking. "It nearly ended things, not that we were actually dating then, but we were...together, I guess."Her laugh is weak, rueful, laced with old disbelief. "But...because he could read my mind...he knew exactly what to say. He always knows exactly what to say, when he wants to." Her gaze finally flicks up to Kaisel, her aqua eyes rimmed with salt.
"That day," she murmurs, "on the beach, when he electrocuted you?" Her voice trembles, but she pushes through it. "It was because he could hear your every thought about him, not because of anything you actually did."
Her mouth opens again, then closes. She hunches forward, folding in like paper, one hand raking through her curls, catching on tangles and shaking fingers. There’s so much more she wants to say, but the words are coming too fast now, too full of everything that’s broken. "That’s what makes it worse when he’s cruel," she says finally, voice hoarse. "Because he knows. He knows what to say to cut deepest. There’s no part of him that doesn’t understand exactly how hard it’ll land." And then her voice breaks entirely, and she tucks her face into her knees, her tears hot again, because this is what she has lived with—this—a secret heavy enough to fracture her ribs from the inside out, and now, after all of it, after telling Kaisel the one thing she thought she’d never speak aloud, she still feels more ghost than girl.
It had never been meant to stay, not once things had ended, but it had been easier to leave the door shut than to open it and drag everything inside into the light. That room was full of things that weren’t sharp until you touched them. Memories packed in quiet boxes that still smelled like sea salt and rum. Shadows that only moved when you looked directly at them. And she hadn’t wanted to look, hadn’t known how. For all their talk of taking things slow, she and Kaisel had set their world on fire the moment they’d touched. They’d built forever with matchsticks and laughter, skipped steps and didn’t look back. And somewhere in the rush of joy, in the dizzied certainty of loving him, Flora had just...assumed there would be time. Time to clear out the corners, time to mourn the old versions of herself, time to let the grief stop aching like a phantom limb. But of course, the room isn't just a room to Kai; it’s a shrine. A ghost. A reminder that her heart has held too many names, and not all of them are gone and gods what an idiot she is.
As Kaisel reaches up to hold her face, her expression crumples beneath his touch, fragile and bruised, like a petal that’s been stepped on. Everything she thought she knew so well—us, this, him—feels suddenly blurred at the edges. She presses her cheek helplessly into his palm, not because it soothes her, but because she doesn’t know where else to go. When he guides her to the floor, something in her lets out a half-whimper, half-laugh, the sound thin and glassy. She can see how hard he’s trying, but the frost from seeing Jack inside her is thick, and the way it doesn’t melt right away makes the ache in her chest double down. It should be easy, the way it always is with him, but today nothing is easy, and that only breaks her more.
She folds down with him, knees bare and trembling, settling into a half-collapsed sprawl against his leg. Her body bends inward again, arms loose around her shins, fingers twitching like they’re looking for something to hold on to that isn’t falling apart. When he asks to hear it all, it almost feels impossible. The story’s too big, too heavy, full of too many silences that aren’t hers anymore. But she closes her eyes and breathes, and breathes again, trying to stack the pieces in order.
"The whole time," she says, her voice barely above a breath. "But I didn’t always know." She stares at the cabinets across from them, not really seeing them, her voice distant now; somewhere out on the beach where the waves had rolled a secret straight into her lap. "He told me one day, sort of by accident. He was sick. and half delirious and he ended up replying to something I'd only thought and not said." Her throat bobs with the effort it takes to keep talking. "It nearly ended things, not that we were actually dating then, but we were...together, I guess."Her laugh is weak, rueful, laced with old disbelief. "But...because he could read my mind...he knew exactly what to say. He always knows exactly what to say, when he wants to." Her gaze finally flicks up to Kaisel, her aqua eyes rimmed with salt.
"That day," she murmurs, "on the beach, when he electrocuted you?" Her voice trembles, but she pushes through it. "It was because he could hear your every thought about him, not because of anything you actually did."
Her mouth opens again, then closes. She hunches forward, folding in like paper, one hand raking through her curls, catching on tangles and shaking fingers. There’s so much more she wants to say, but the words are coming too fast now, too full of everything that’s broken. "That’s what makes it worse when he’s cruel," she says finally, voice hoarse. "Because he knows. He knows what to say to cut deepest. There’s no part of him that doesn’t understand exactly how hard it’ll land." And then her voice breaks entirely, and she tucks her face into her knees, her tears hot again, because this is what she has lived with—this—a secret heavy enough to fracture her ribs from the inside out, and now, after all of it, after telling Kaisel the one thing she thought she’d never speak aloud, she still feels more ghost than girl.
Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea
