∗* edge of glory
(...)
Sebastian stands, awkwardly, at the side of the table. The waiter was gone now and the two are alone. He stares at his wife, at the tiniest reminder of their fight, and his mind goes into radio silence. He didn’t know what to do. He was used to taking her into his arms, lifting her into a hug so tight, just holding her. Still silent, he sits opposite her, the stare unbroken. After a moment, he can’t take anymore, he orders himself a latte and waits. Just sits and waits.
he is silent when he appears--distraught, unkempt--seating himself opposite her without a word. francesca watches him diligently, waiting for any sign that they were okay. instead he stares at her, after a long moment of awkward standing, and just sits. sits and stares.
it’s almost natural. she finds herself leaning across the table, tissue in hand, cleaning up the small collection of fresh scars and blood off his chin. “what happened? did you fight someone for a bagel or something?” she jokes, or at least tries to, pulling back and discarding the tissue onto the table in a crumpled ball.
when their drinks arrive, she sips hers quietly. francesca was not used to be so quiet; let alone so speechless around sebastian. she wasn’t sure where they had left, nor where they would begin. it takes a moment of berating within her mind but she decides to start with updates: “my first ultrasound is in two days. i really want you there.”
