you hate the crash, but you love the rush
She’s already running when he calls, laughter bright and reckless in her throat as though she’s been waiting her whole life for someone to give her permission to sprint toward something this gloriously unnecessary. The permanent twilight turns him gold to silver as she closes the distance, and she doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t warn him; instead she launches cleanly off the ground and collides with his back in a burst of delighted momentum, arms looping around his shoulders, legs locking tight around his waist, blanket and all be damned.
The impact jolts a breath from her, but she only laughs harder, clinging shamelessly as she presses kiss after kiss into the warm crook of his neck, his cheek, the edge of his jaw, as though she’s trying to brand him with her joy before they’ve even taken another step. Just the idea of this quest they're on crackles through her like carbonation, effervescent and excessive and so utterly, theatrically perfect that she can’t help the way her grip tightens, fingers curling into him as if anchoring herself to the absurdity of it. They’re already married, and yet this—this public, glittering announcement written across the heavens—thrums through her veins with champagne brightness, all sparkle and showmanship and shameless delight. It’s dramatic to the point of indulgence, it’s loud without making a sound, and it feels exactly like them, exactly like the sort of love that refuses to stay small or sensible or politely contained.
She nuzzles closer, lips brushing along his cheek as she tilts her head to catch his profile in the twilight, aqua eyes alight with mischief and something warmer beneath it. "Okay so...10 words is not a lot, so we probably can't say anything about gummy worms or how ticklish you are."
The impact jolts a breath from her, but she only laughs harder, clinging shamelessly as she presses kiss after kiss into the warm crook of his neck, his cheek, the edge of his jaw, as though she’s trying to brand him with her joy before they’ve even taken another step. Just the idea of this quest they're on crackles through her like carbonation, effervescent and excessive and so utterly, theatrically perfect that she can’t help the way her grip tightens, fingers curling into him as if anchoring herself to the absurdity of it. They’re already married, and yet this—this public, glittering announcement written across the heavens—thrums through her veins with champagne brightness, all sparkle and showmanship and shameless delight. It’s dramatic to the point of indulgence, it’s loud without making a sound, and it feels exactly like them, exactly like the sort of love that refuses to stay small or sensible or politely contained.
She nuzzles closer, lips brushing along his cheek as she tilts her head to catch his profile in the twilight, aqua eyes alight with mischief and something warmer beneath it. "Okay so...10 words is not a lot, so we probably can't say anything about gummy worms or how ticklish you are."
