REXANNA
paint my spirit gold
Whether Clemente is having an internal crisis or not, Rexanna pretends to not notice. Instead, tying the bracelet onto his wrist and focusing her attention onto the teenager while he gushes for her title. And she gives him a gentle smile in response. Her hands withdraw from him, waiting to see if he’s interested in seeing his room, but pauses when he reaches out to hug her tight. His arms around her neck, the picture perfect hug she had wanted to give him from the start, added to it only by the story of his own hardship.“You’re welcome.” She tells him gently, easily. Because it’s not a problem to her, and that she wants to do this for him.
She stands briefly before he does, noticing that he doesn’t meet her gaze, but she still feels warm despite it. This whole thing was a lot, and she doesn’t blame him for the silence, the awkwardness. That and he’s young too, that never really helped matters much in the long run, did it? So she leads him up to the second floor, toward one of the spare rooms that still had soft blankets in it, pillows, swaths of golds and blues mixed with reddish purples to look like a sunset of sorts.
And she lets him explore, lets him decide whether he wishes to stay with her or not. The room is his, now, after all. Whether he takes it or not.
