// All I want is champagne and sunshine //
A snort immediately shreds the notion that he’d ever want her to. ”Good,” he concludes instead. ”I think our hearts deserve to stay exactly where they are, full of everything they carry. Gods know I tried to drown mine a time or two, tried to make it feel gone, but…” He doesn’t mean to get melancholic now, so he rolls away the thought with a shrug. ”It’s better, to feel it.” Something he could say now that he’s made it through to the other side, but in those dark moments, he would have let his heart die too.
Not knowing near the amount of details about the whole event as Mel, he just nods along with the idea of trust. That has never been much the issue for him. Not outright, at least. Maybe it’s a lack of trust that roots his fears in place, that feeds his temper, that curls anxiety against every rib. Generally, the one he doesn’t trust is himself, and he thinks for good reason, but he’s been repairing that too. Every honey-lacquered moment with her has helped in that regard.
Those thoughts all drift away easily once he’s opened the box and become enamoured with her gift. It’s touching, being seen that way, known and remembered and cared for like he’d last known as a boy, and even then only but under the purview of a depressed mother that had little left to spare herself much less him. Kindness has ever been a slow offering from life.
He breathes her in as they embrace, and it feels like comfort. ”Oh, they’re definitely going in a place of honor. Which is not here,” he assures as he releases her gradually, lingering close still. His home is no grand display to write home about either, but it’s definitely better than this sorry shack. ”I have been meaning to spruce this place up,” he admits with a glance around. ”Something a little more permanent than your efforts.”
Not knowing near the amount of details about the whole event as Mel, he just nods along with the idea of trust. That has never been much the issue for him. Not outright, at least. Maybe it’s a lack of trust that roots his fears in place, that feeds his temper, that curls anxiety against every rib. Generally, the one he doesn’t trust is himself, and he thinks for good reason, but he’s been repairing that too. Every honey-lacquered moment with her has helped in that regard.
Those thoughts all drift away easily once he’s opened the box and become enamoured with her gift. It’s touching, being seen that way, known and remembered and cared for like he’d last known as a boy, and even then only but under the purview of a depressed mother that had little left to spare herself much less him. Kindness has ever been a slow offering from life.
He breathes her in as they embrace, and it feels like comfort. ”Oh, they’re definitely going in a place of honor. Which is not here,” he assures as he releases her gradually, lingering close still. His home is no grand display to write home about either, but it’s definitely better than this sorry shack. ”I have been meaning to spruce this place up,” he admits with a glance around. ”Something a little more permanent than your efforts.”
ISKRA
// Sipping on the stars while we laying under sunlight //
