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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 .
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 .
@princssguard
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ i 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 ⸝⸝ want to live ; ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ is that 𝘁𝗼𝗼 much to 𝒂𝒔𝒌 ݁.ᐣ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
mdni. Katılım Nisan 2026
169 Takip Edilen166 Takipçiler
with something that is not frustration, has never been frustration, is in fact the precise and helpless opposite of frustration dressed in its clothing.
“Let me see it.”
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< and then relinquished.
“And the very first thing you did was cut flowers and come to apologise.”
She wraps both hands around her cup. Holds it like ballast.
“You are so unutterably stupid sometimes.”
Said >
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The kettle reaches its crescendo. She does not move to silence it immediately.
“I’m not angry with him.”
Quietly. Addressed to the window above the sink, to the glass, to the pale column of steam ascending >
𓂃⋆.˚ 𝔃𝐚𝐜𝐤 .@dreamsparity
He’s quiet for a second. Looks down at the flower on the table. “Yeah.” Just the one word first. Like he’s testing how it feels to say it out loud. “He didn’t— he wasn’t himself. You know how he gets.” His voice is careful. Not defensive of Cloud exactly, just—
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< kettle ticking, the ribbon crooked. “I’m not going anywhere.”
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< since she first saw the way his hand moved. But she is opening a door for him, the same quiet and deliberate courtesy with which he opened hers.
“You can tell me.” Softer now. The kitchen warm, the >
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She is already at the stove. Filling the kettle, setting down the cups — moving through her kitchen the way she always has, with an ease so thoroughly inhabited it looks like breathing.
She glances back at >
𓂃⋆.˚ 𝔃𝐚𝐜𝐤 .@dreamsparity
Something in him visibly unknots. He looks down at the flower in his hand. Then at her. Then he laughs — quiet, genuine, the first real one since he knocked on her door. “I wasn’t gonna argue.” He goes back to the chair. Sits down with considerably more relief than he lets
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< head in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll put the kettle on. And then you’re going to tell me about your side.”
Not a question. Not remotely.
“Don’t argue with me about it.”
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< and ungovernable measure, it is. “Arriving with lopsided flowers and saying the right thing at entirely the wrong time.”
The corner of her mouth concedes something. Just barely.
“Sit back down.” A tilt of her >
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She watches him rise.
She sees it. The hitch. The hand that travels instinctively toward his side and thinks better of it. Something in her mouth presses briefly, almost imperceptibly together.
“Zack.”
He is >
𓂃⋆.˚ 𝔃𝐚𝐜𝐤 .@dreamsparity
Zack doesn’t flinch away from it. Doesn’t scramble to fix it or talk around it. He just sits with it for a moment, lets it settle where it needs to settle. Then he nods. “Okay.” Just that. No argument. “You’re right.” He stands. Slowly — and there it is, the thing he’s been
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