02-23-2021, 12:16 AM
i think i'm better on my own but i get so lost in you
She hadn’t been sure if Thomas would come.
She had asked him to Pangea once before and he had declined, though she could not deny that at the time that was for the best. He was glass and Pangea had been a minefield full of things meant to break him — Stave and Draco, and even Ghaul, just because he could. Thomas was hers, even if in the beginning he had just been a pretty thing she wanted to collect.
She had not counted on loving him. She had not considered that he would work his way like a glass shard through her chest and into the chamber of her heart, burying himself there so that anytime her heart dared to beat in a way that wasn’t for him that she would feel it to her core.
She didn’t stray the way she used to. Not anymore. Not after her last mistake, when she had birthed that son that was breathtaking and gorgeous but so clearly not a son of Thomas. Guilt had been a new emotion for her and she found that she hated the way it felt and tasted, the way it lingered and took months to leave—the way it was still there, a faint twinge when the glass shard moved. A constant reminder that no matter what she did, Thomas was always going to be there.
This time coming here was different, because this time Pangea was hers (in a way), and this time they did not go anywhere that was not together. Though their twin daughters were grown (how was that even possible?) they had been quick to turn Pangea into their home, bringing first Amathea, and now, in the middle of what should be autumn, she felt the familiar but faint fluttering that told her they would welcome another child come spring.
He is easy to find because she always knows where he will be. She does not need her infrared to find him, knows that he will be along the river. It was the only place she really liked here, too. Even without the sun, the ground here was softer, less dusty. In the dark, the canyons disappeared and she did not have to remember that they were living in what was essentially a barren wasteland.
“Thomas,” she murmurs, even his name feeling fragile like glass in her mouth. She presses against him, gently running her nose along the smooth glass of his neck, always a little bit in awe at the way that he felt. It was quiet here, save for the sound of water rushing over rock, carving its way through the bottom of the canyon. “What are you thinking about?” She asks him, because she always wonders, and maybe secretly she worries that he would rather not be here.
She had asked him to Pangea once before and he had declined, though she could not deny that at the time that was for the best. He was glass and Pangea had been a minefield full of things meant to break him — Stave and Draco, and even Ghaul, just because he could. Thomas was hers, even if in the beginning he had just been a pretty thing she wanted to collect.
She had not counted on loving him. She had not considered that he would work his way like a glass shard through her chest and into the chamber of her heart, burying himself there so that anytime her heart dared to beat in a way that wasn’t for him that she would feel it to her core.
She didn’t stray the way she used to. Not anymore. Not after her last mistake, when she had birthed that son that was breathtaking and gorgeous but so clearly not a son of Thomas. Guilt had been a new emotion for her and she found that she hated the way it felt and tasted, the way it lingered and took months to leave—the way it was still there, a faint twinge when the glass shard moved. A constant reminder that no matter what she did, Thomas was always going to be there.
This time coming here was different, because this time Pangea was hers (in a way), and this time they did not go anywhere that was not together. Though their twin daughters were grown (how was that even possible?) they had been quick to turn Pangea into their home, bringing first Amathea, and now, in the middle of what should be autumn, she felt the familiar but faint fluttering that told her they would welcome another child come spring.
He is easy to find because she always knows where he will be. She does not need her infrared to find him, knows that he will be along the river. It was the only place she really liked here, too. Even without the sun, the ground here was softer, less dusty. In the dark, the canyons disappeared and she did not have to remember that they were living in what was essentially a barren wasteland.
“Thomas,” she murmurs, even his name feeling fragile like glass in her mouth. She presses against him, gently running her nose along the smooth glass of his neck, always a little bit in awe at the way that he felt. It was quiet here, save for the sound of water rushing over rock, carving its way through the bottom of the canyon. “What are you thinking about?” She asks him, because she always wonders, and maybe secretly she worries that he would rather not be here.
i think i'm better on my own but i'm so obsessed with you
desire
@[thomas]