LOCKE
The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smile but not quite. She isn't going to let him get away with this, is she? Of course not. She refuses to see that side of him. But he doesn't want to fight anymore, he doesn't want to argue. He just wants this. "I suppose." So he'll meet her half way, for now.
"I'll put that on the top of my list then. I hope you like your kitchen being destroyed." Nothing is quite as messy as a child with access to flour and sugar. And while Locke isn't fond of sweets, he doesn't skimp on his sugar. "Or mine. I don't think he's ever been to my apartment." Locke had never needed to take them that far away. There's a twinge in his chest, at the thought of the unused crib in his bedroom.
Maeve finally pulls away and he watches her as she starts working on her flowers again. He waits a moment before joining her, falling back into something of an old routine. She mulls his question over for a moment and he waits, ignoring the way his heart threatens to rip out of his chest. Her answer is better than he expected though. Simply a friend. He can deal with that.
He plucks a stubborn weed out of the ground, tossing it to one side. He goes to reach for another when he looks up at her. The moonlight bathes her in silver and it's like something is rekindled inside of him. "Mae," He whispers, borderline prays, as he leans over the flowers. Everything he's ever wanted is kneeling before him and he's done nothing but deny himself. Where has he been all this time? He brushes the back of his hand against her cheek before pulling her towards him.
She already kissed him once, right? Where's the harm in another?
"I'll put that on the top of my list then. I hope you like your kitchen being destroyed." Nothing is quite as messy as a child with access to flour and sugar. And while Locke isn't fond of sweets, he doesn't skimp on his sugar. "Or mine. I don't think he's ever been to my apartment." Locke had never needed to take them that far away. There's a twinge in his chest, at the thought of the unused crib in his bedroom.
Maeve finally pulls away and he watches her as she starts working on her flowers again. He waits a moment before joining her, falling back into something of an old routine. She mulls his question over for a moment and he waits, ignoring the way his heart threatens to rip out of his chest. Her answer is better than he expected though. Simply a friend. He can deal with that.
He plucks a stubborn weed out of the ground, tossing it to one side. He goes to reach for another when he looks up at her. The moonlight bathes her in silver and it's like something is rekindled inside of him. "Mae," He whispers, borderline prays, as he leans over the flowers. Everything he's ever wanted is kneeling before him and he's done nothing but deny himself. Where has he been all this time? He brushes the back of his hand against her cheek before pulling her towards him.
She already kissed him once, right? Where's the harm in another?
I wanna make up my mind
But I don't know myself
But I don't know myself
