Zavien
The mist was a perpetual companion the last few days. It was a constant conflict with his mood. He tried to be light and optimistic, to lean into the fluttering hope in his chest, to pray that everything was going to work out despite how uncertain it all felt, but the dreary hang of moisture and grayness in the air seemed to encourage negativity. Shadows would move in the darkness, whispers of doubt following close behind.
Excitement and nervousness coiled in his chest, wondering if Soh would have changed her mind since her letter. Maybe she'd realized this wasn't worth the effort or that she deserved better than a man still struggling over his dead girlfriend. Zavien wouldn't blame her. He wouldn't even be surprised. But he also couldn't deny how disappointed he would be, not with the way his heart fluttered. How could he describe how he still recalled the weight of her in his arms or the smell of flowers on her skin? Or the easy way she eased his worries or gave him space to feel? Or how every moment with her was easier than all the time he'd spent without her?
He sounded like a crazy person. He knew that, but he couldn't seem to push the thoughts away.
Running a hand through his damp hair, Zavien stepped into the restaurant. His other hand held the door, careful not to crush the small bouquet of flowers as he let Sol trot in behind him. He was barely on time, his dark blue rain jacket slightly askew over the white button-down shirt and jeans he wore. The usual scruff of his face was more tamed, the efforts of a razor exposing the sharper line of his jaw, making it obvious when he swallowed before scanning the space.
It wasn't hard to spot her. Gods, who wouldn't notice her looking like that? She looked effortless and timeless, a casual flaunt of her eyes, which shone brighter than any piece of jewelry she wore. The blue was like a midnight sky, drawing his gaze up to the soft, golden frame of her wavy curls. She didn't demand or take attention but gently suggested it with the twist of her fidgeting hands or the flicker of her eyelashes. It was the kind of beauty that people could miss if they were too stupid not to look.
Zavien wasn't one of them, and he paused at the doorway to take her in like a warm breath of dry air. He blinked to clear any gaping expressions he might be wearing, offering a smile as he stepped forward to greet his date. "Soh, you look - " Unable to hide the glint in his eyes, he settled on the first word that had come to mind, no matter how simple it may sound, "beautiful." It was half breath when it came out, something soft and intimate without needing contact, rich with affection and sincerity.
Realizing that if he didn't speak, he might start staring, Zavien cleared his throat, presenting her with the paper wrapped bundle of flowers. "I hope you weren't waiting too long. It took a while to find the right flowers." At least he hoped they were right. Some lady at a flower stand had said they would be perfect, but beyond the lavender, he couldn't recall any of their names or purposed. Sol had approved, so he figured that was probably good enough, and they looked pretty enough to him with pops of purple and white and the palest blue.
Excitement and nervousness coiled in his chest, wondering if Soh would have changed her mind since her letter. Maybe she'd realized this wasn't worth the effort or that she deserved better than a man still struggling over his dead girlfriend. Zavien wouldn't blame her. He wouldn't even be surprised. But he also couldn't deny how disappointed he would be, not with the way his heart fluttered. How could he describe how he still recalled the weight of her in his arms or the smell of flowers on her skin? Or the easy way she eased his worries or gave him space to feel? Or how every moment with her was easier than all the time he'd spent without her?
He sounded like a crazy person. He knew that, but he couldn't seem to push the thoughts away.
Running a hand through his damp hair, Zavien stepped into the restaurant. His other hand held the door, careful not to crush the small bouquet of flowers as he let Sol trot in behind him. He was barely on time, his dark blue rain jacket slightly askew over the white button-down shirt and jeans he wore. The usual scruff of his face was more tamed, the efforts of a razor exposing the sharper line of his jaw, making it obvious when he swallowed before scanning the space.
It wasn't hard to spot her. Gods, who wouldn't notice her looking like that? She looked effortless and timeless, a casual flaunt of her eyes, which shone brighter than any piece of jewelry she wore. The blue was like a midnight sky, drawing his gaze up to the soft, golden frame of her wavy curls. She didn't demand or take attention but gently suggested it with the twist of her fidgeting hands or the flicker of her eyelashes. It was the kind of beauty that people could miss if they were too stupid not to look.
Zavien wasn't one of them, and he paused at the doorway to take her in like a warm breath of dry air. He blinked to clear any gaping expressions he might be wearing, offering a smile as he stepped forward to greet his date. "Soh, you look - " Unable to hide the glint in his eyes, he settled on the first word that had come to mind, no matter how simple it may sound, "beautiful." It was half breath when it came out, something soft and intimate without needing contact, rich with affection and sincerity.
Realizing that if he didn't speak, he might start staring, Zavien cleared his throat, presenting her with the paper wrapped bundle of flowers. "I hope you weren't waiting too long. It took a while to find the right flowers." At least he hoped they were right. Some lady at a flower stand had said they would be perfect, but beyond the lavender, he couldn't recall any of their names or purposed. Sol had approved, so he figured that was probably good enough, and they looked pretty enough to him with pops of purple and white and the palest blue.
That’s How We’re Gonna Win.
Not Fighting What We Hate,
Saving What We Love.
Not Fighting What We Hate,
Saving What We Love.
