he watches her, and it’s like trying to hold water in his hands—everything she’s feeling, everything she isn’t saying, spilling out in the spaces between her words. the smile she gives him feels like a flicker of something familiar and distant at the same time. he catches it, holds onto it like he’s afraid it’ll slip away if he looks too long.
“thanks,” he says, voice soft, uneven around the edges. his fingers fidget with the strap of his keyboard case, something to ground him. “means a lot. that you think so.”
her joke makes him huff a breath that could almost be a laugh, but it’s too quiet, too weighed down. “cheap drinks. right. yeah.” like either of them are really here for that.
and then she asks it—the question that knocks the wind out of him more than seeing her did. his breath catches, and for a second he looks at her like he wants to say everything at once. but he doesn’t. he never does.
“i didn’t… not want you to stay.” it’s the truth, small and uncertain, but honest. “i was just surprised. that’s all. it’s good to see you.”
he shifts his weight, glances toward the stage like maybe if he looks away the knot in his chest will loosen. but he finds his way back to her eyes, gentler now, steadier.
“you can stay as long as you want.”
she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't perk up slightly at the way rowan responses, she couldn't even try to hide the her eyes widen in surprise. honestly, she was completely expecting him to never want to see her again, and she couldn't really blame him if he did. she was the one who was avoiding him, after all.
bora stares at him for one, two seconds longer before looking back down at the floor with the hint of a small smile on her face. she still feels awkward about the whole situation, but there's a relief that's obvious in her body language now in the way her body finally relaxes, no more anxious tapping and searching around the rest of the room to hide from his eyes.
he doesn't mind that she's here, at least.
she rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment before glancing over in the direction of the exit, biting her lip in thought for a second. "do you like... want to get out of here...?"
she pauses, realizing the way her words could be taken in a different context before immediately speaking again and shaking her head at her own thoughts "i mean, to talk outside or something! it's like, really loud in here! probably not the best place to talk about feelings and all, haha...!" phew. good save, bora.
he’s not sure what he thought she was going to say- maybe that this was a mistake, maybe that she’d only come to see someone else, maybe that she hadn’t realized he’d be performing tonight until it was too late to back out, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. wasn’t her looking at him like that, wasn’t the visible drop of tension from her shoulders or the way her eyes briefly flicker up and meet his again. he doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s holding the handle of his keyboard case until his knuckles ache, until she smiles, small and awkward but real, and his grip finally loosens.
he doesn’t know what she expected either. maybe that he’d turn away. maybe that he still resented her for how things ended. maybe that he wouldn’t want her here at all. maybe he shouldn’t want her here. but he does- of course he does.
she rocks on her heels and glances toward the exit and for a second rowan thinks she’s about to leave again, and his heart sinks even though he already told himself he wouldn’t make her stay. wouldn’t try to stop her.
but then
“do you like… want to get out of here…?”
it catches him off guard—his eyebrows lift, like he’s not sure he heard her right. and before he can even process it she’s already backpedaling, tripping over her own words in a rush to clarify and oh god, it’s so her it almost makes his chest hurt.
he lets out a breath, not quite a laugh, but something close. quiet, like he’s still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing. her, standing here. the way her words tumble over themselves. how they both keep dodging the weight in the room like it isn’t already pulling them in.
“i know what you meant,” he murmurs, voice gentler now, just for her.
he adjusts the strap of his keyboard and gives the room a quick glance—like maybe he’s checking for some last second excuse to stay, or to run—but then he’s already shifting toward the exit, not far, not rushing. just enough to make it clear he’s saying yeah. “i think there’s a bench outside, if no one’s claimed it.”
