HOTARU
As he jerks beneath her grip she lets all thoughts vanish beneath the pulsing waves of her orgasm. Finally her mind is quiet. For a few short, blissful moments, there is nothing. Not even familiarity, or old memories, or happier feelings. Just the shudder of her limbs and the hummingbird heartbeat in her breast. Everything reduced down to sensation.
Then it all comes back.
Not in a rush, but a trickle. The electric fingers disappear, leaving her aching and void, the hand supporting her leaving her to float alone in the water. Until Nate shifts and begins to emerge, there is a moment of fresh hurt, a prelude to the emptiness that they both know is coming. Only he has someone to go home to - she doesn’t. As they shift, she tries not to lean on him as much as she wants. Their time of indulgence and weakness has passed, the line has been drawn and she can pretend no longer. Especially not when Nate is saying the two worst phrases he possibly could, grinding down what few shards remain of her heart.
As he turns her away and his arms pull back, Hotaru fights to breathe. Soundless, gasping heaves that don’t seem to fill her lungs are all she can manage. From the other side of the basin, Atlas’ alarm rings like a muted bell. Is this a panic attack? Gods, she hasn’t had once since she was a child. Were it not for Atlas’ immediate mental support, Hotaru likely would have betrayed herself. Instead, her numb lips part, and she finds herself speaking as if compelled. “I love you too.” But her throat closes around any further notions of forgiveness. She’d meant them when she spoke them minutes ago, but they die in her chest this time.
Hotaru moves first. On legs that shake like a newborn fawn’s, though at least the resistance of the water hides that well enough. Her hair hangs wet against her spine, revealing far too much of her face which she keeps carefully blank as she moves for the shore. Methodically grabbing her clothes and pulling them on, not daring to look back. Refusing to be the one left behind this time - at least not physically. He is merely the newest in a line of lovers to have walked away, but just as she had with Sunjata, Hotaru refuses to let either of them make her watch them leave. There is only so much cruelty she will accept from them out of love.
As she dresses, her fingers find Nate’s clothes abandoned by her own, and they pause and linger over the oil-slick black of his jacket. Without asking - and aware it’s at least not his prized original - she grabs it and bundles it in her arms beneath her own winter coat. Atlas emerges from the water, head low and liquid eyes melancholy as they shift between Nate, Pemota, and Hotaru. But he comes to her side, as he always will. Hotaru shakily reaches for his mane, needing to hang onto him to remain standing but aware she’s incapable of mounting him with how she currently feels.
Hotaru looks back only once, and only because she has one last thing to say. “Goodbye Nate.” No endearing name, no apologies or forgiveness, nothing more than goodbye. And then she turns away, hand gripping tight to her companion, who leads her forward as if knowing that left to her own power, Hotaru wouldn’t have been able to walk in the opposite direction of her beloved.
Then it all comes back.
Not in a rush, but a trickle. The electric fingers disappear, leaving her aching and void, the hand supporting her leaving her to float alone in the water. Until Nate shifts and begins to emerge, there is a moment of fresh hurt, a prelude to the emptiness that they both know is coming. Only he has someone to go home to - she doesn’t. As they shift, she tries not to lean on him as much as she wants. Their time of indulgence and weakness has passed, the line has been drawn and she can pretend no longer. Especially not when Nate is saying the two worst phrases he possibly could, grinding down what few shards remain of her heart.
As he turns her away and his arms pull back, Hotaru fights to breathe. Soundless, gasping heaves that don’t seem to fill her lungs are all she can manage. From the other side of the basin, Atlas’ alarm rings like a muted bell. Is this a panic attack? Gods, she hasn’t had once since she was a child. Were it not for Atlas’ immediate mental support, Hotaru likely would have betrayed herself. Instead, her numb lips part, and she finds herself speaking as if compelled. “I love you too.” But her throat closes around any further notions of forgiveness. She’d meant them when she spoke them minutes ago, but they die in her chest this time.
Hotaru moves first. On legs that shake like a newborn fawn’s, though at least the resistance of the water hides that well enough. Her hair hangs wet against her spine, revealing far too much of her face which she keeps carefully blank as she moves for the shore. Methodically grabbing her clothes and pulling them on, not daring to look back. Refusing to be the one left behind this time - at least not physically. He is merely the newest in a line of lovers to have walked away, but just as she had with Sunjata, Hotaru refuses to let either of them make her watch them leave. There is only so much cruelty she will accept from them out of love.
As she dresses, her fingers find Nate’s clothes abandoned by her own, and they pause and linger over the oil-slick black of his jacket. Without asking - and aware it’s at least not his prized original - she grabs it and bundles it in her arms beneath her own winter coat. Atlas emerges from the water, head low and liquid eyes melancholy as they shift between Nate, Pemota, and Hotaru. But he comes to her side, as he always will. Hotaru shakily reaches for his mane, needing to hang onto him to remain standing but aware she’s incapable of mounting him with how she currently feels.
Hotaru looks back only once, and only because she has one last thing to say. “Goodbye Nate.” No endearing name, no apologies or forgiveness, nothing more than goodbye. And then she turns away, hand gripping tight to her companion, who leads her forward as if knowing that left to her own power, Hotaru wouldn’t have been able to walk in the opposite direction of her beloved.
Pull you in, but don't you get too close
Love you now, but not tomorrow
Love you now, but not tomorrow
