[ It isn't a simple question. It lands like a strike, dizzying and unexpected; it sickens her like the sway of a ship, unpredictable and erratic in its rocking. She should be thinking of Mal — the hardness of his expression whenever his jealousy arises and turns him to stone, as if it will somehow prevent pain from striking him. She shouldn't be thinking of Mal, when the brush of Nikolai's fingers is its own flickering flame.
There is no easy answer. Of all the impossible odds they've overcome, there is no defeating the truth: whether she is thinking of him or not, there is no forgetting Mal, not when such a large piece of him resides inside of her, bright enough to drive away the darkness that threatens to creep in. Not when he is the only family she has known, the only home she has lived inside for so long.
(Long enough that, sometimes, she wonders if she has overstayed her welcome.)
But he has said right now, and she clings to that — selfishly, maybe, for how tightly she wants to hold onto this moment. Her breath is a stuttered thing in her threat, held in that delicate balance between anticipation and anxiety. Like this, she can feel the whisper of his own, the traces of rum she wants to trace away. ]
If I wanted to forget, the bottle is right there.
[ It shakes just a little, that answer that tries so valiantly to be unaffected, as her throat bobs with a harsh swallow. There won't be repairing this dam, once they unleash it, but Nikolai has always exuded a sense of danger. A sea that can be as gentle and soothing as it is wildly turbulent.
It makes her want to be bolder, braver; her eyes flicker to the softness of his mouth and linger too long, wondrous. ]
I'm only thinking of you right now.
[ If there was any doubt that still needed to be wiped from the board. It's a chance she seizes, a chance she won't wait to come to her; the press of her lips to his is a little abrupt, a little clumsy, a little lacquered with almond and rum — but unburdened by any lie. She wonders if it's enough for him to feel it, to accept it — if the understanding will be in his eyes when she does break away from that fleeting, uncertain brush of her mouth only to find and gauge his gaze. ]
no subject
There is no easy answer. Of all the impossible odds they've overcome, there is no defeating the truth: whether she is thinking of him or not, there is no forgetting Mal, not when such a large piece of him resides inside of her, bright enough to drive away the darkness that threatens to creep in. Not when he is the only family she has known, the only home she has lived inside for so long.
(Long enough that, sometimes, she wonders if she has overstayed her welcome.)
But he has said right now, and she clings to that — selfishly, maybe, for how tightly she wants to hold onto this moment. Her breath is a stuttered thing in her threat, held in that delicate balance between anticipation and anxiety. Like this, she can feel the whisper of his own, the traces of rum she wants to trace away. ]
If I wanted to forget, the bottle is right there.
[ It shakes just a little, that answer that tries so valiantly to be unaffected, as her throat bobs with a harsh swallow. There won't be repairing this dam, once they unleash it, but Nikolai has always exuded a sense of danger. A sea that can be as gentle and soothing as it is wildly turbulent.
It makes her want to be bolder, braver; her eyes flicker to the softness of his mouth and linger too long, wondrous. ]
I'm only thinking of you right now.
[ If there was any doubt that still needed to be wiped from the board. It's a chance she seizes, a chance she won't wait to come to her; the press of her lips to his is a little abrupt, a little clumsy, a little lacquered with almond and rum — but unburdened by any lie. She wonders if it's enough for him to feel it, to accept it — if the understanding will be in his eyes when she does break away from that fleeting, uncertain brush of her mouth only to find and gauge his gaze. ]