The sight of him is a BALM for an old wound, setting her nerves but startling them all the same with the flavour of his stardust scent and too-blue eyes. It is his house after all, and certainly she knew he would come back eventually, but she is surprised all the same. The house in Geiranger is laden with HER; half-finished paintings, a bed not slept in, a makeshift darkroom in an unused lavatory, and something like bleach to disguise any mess– but it is still his home, and she is half-embarrassed that it is not as sterling clean as she would’ve liked. Pulling a silk robe around her shoulders tighter, Lili opened the door, and took only a moment or two before pulling him into a hug. “You should have called.”
Though the embrace had been welcomed, by all means, the feelings that followed were UNSETTLING. In an instant, it was as if they were wild-eyed teenagers again, struggling to make name for themselves. Everything that had happened in between, all the pain and suffering and loss -- everything that tried so hard to tear them apart, was made a distant blur. She smelled of death, but nothing like the ugly bits. Not the decaying remains or senseless bloodshed. It was the bittersweet of it all. The scent of a perfumed, yielding neck as it was surrendered to sharp teeth.
He pulled away from her with great reluctance. Haunted smile fading into the void, only to be replaced with an aching tired. This was his home, despite what she had done to make it hers. His intentions had been to rest, the presence of an old flame was only a pleasant surprise. Travel bags are tossed into the nearest corner and weary eyes travel across unfinished paintings. It was nice. But it’s not very long before body finds comfort in the cushions of an empty couch and face is buried beneath throw pillow.
❛ Where would the surprise be in that? No doubt, you would have vacated the premises. I like the comfort of not being alone. I like the smell of paint. Besides, I haven’t seen you in quite a while. ❜
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