he’s been patient. between texting lauriam, busying himself with setting up their morning, the eclipse itself, and of course– the best part– spending it all with isa, he’s been able to keep his mind from the obvious. mostly. or, every time he forgot about the box in his jean pocket, it returned to his memory. it wasn’t something to “get” memorized. rather, it refused to leave. he’s been more talkative than usual. perhaps even sappier than normal, too. — he only hopes isa hasn’t noticed too much. maybe it could be chalked up to excitement from the eclipse or the day off from work.
he’s been good, too. he waits until the eclipse is over. he waits and stalls until people shuffle back to their cottage homes and jobs. he waits until he’s positive the moon’s proximity has done nothing but encourage isa’s good mood.
“hey, isa.” he swallows what feels like rocks in his throat. here comes that nervousness, in full force and violent. so much so, he feels as though he may double over. “you know i love you.” it’s choked out, his voice feeling so much smaller than it did just minutes ago. the temperature of his hands goes untamed with wild nerves, as he reaches for theirs— if anyone else were to be so engulfed by lea’s fingers, they would certainly be burned. but not isa. isa can handle it. isa can handle him— always has. always will.
“we’ve been through some real shit, yanno? but i— through it all, you’ve been my landmark. i lost sight of you once, but i’m never gonna do that again. i wanna keep you— us as my waypoint from here on out. i can’t promise no more shit to wade through, but i promise i’m gonna wade through it by your side. kickin’ and screamin’ if we have to. you’re not gettin’ rid of me. so…” his knee finds their picnic blanket. one hand releases isa’s to dig into his jean pocket and take out the box. inside, a single ring, beautiful and moon-shaped is then presented to them. “isa, will you marry me?”
it’s always been the little things with lea. he’s more subtle than what most give credit for; little pockets of love, sowed with care and intention, that he plants along their trail to be savored by their starving jaws. in the beginning, they didn’t expect to be able to reciprocate as naturally as lea could; radiance wrapped around him like a second skin, as warm and soothing as the fires that he chooses, now, to let loose. jeopardy became a foreign concern. the anger that encased them for so long pulled taut and snapped, like heartstrings, permitting a gentler force to broach their spirit.
their heart swells in their chest, being with him. still something to cherish, even long after recompletion, when sharp ire turned dull, and remorse spilled from them like a disembowling. they’re back, again; nothing of a spectacle, but they’re back, and that’s what matters. lea reminds him each day: it’s the little things.
fingers entangle with the curiosity and affection of schoolkids, peering upon the intercepting sun and moon. it’s a marvel to see it before their own eyes, they think, but none so cherished as witnessing it with him. their picnic array is devoured before the moon completely rears her head. small talk and his ridiculous jokes fill their wait, and it feels like no time passes between them. their own pocket of infinity, where they can keep each other safe, knotted up by the little nets they lay down for each other, urging to stay awhile, because together is infinity, a decimal so small that it pockets in on itself and stretches in an endless computation, those little things.
they stay together even after most file out, and the cool breeze turns warm again, and shadows cast long and pitch. though he’s collected most of their picnic wares, isa contents themself with soaking in the rays of the sun, letting gusts of wind strike effort in their hair and against their skin, because it’s the little things, now. or maybe it always has been.
❝ hey. ❞ an immediate answer to lea’s interjection. though he breaks the silence, it isn’t violent or obtrusive. isa flicks his gaze, precise and intense as it is, towards his company, and he can tell something bothers lea by the twitch of his lip, the restlessness of his voice. he turns to look at him completely, shifting his body to face him. i love you, he says. another bud he sowed for those hungry jaws. lips pull at their corners, attempting to reassure, and the hands that seize their own are hot, but never too much for them. they can take it. they can take it. ❝ you know i love you. what's the matter? ❞
oh, those little things. pockets of love and boundless infinity reserved just for them, when adoration becomes so thick it’s palpable, and they can wrap it around their shoulders, sharing their hide of infinity. lea speaks, and that little thing in their chest drops to the floor quicker than he can get on one knee. his mouth hangs open. his eyes, precise as they so typically are, blur with an oncoming sting, and that little thing between lea’s fingers—
❝ lea. ❞ it’s an outburst of emotion. tremulous. tearful. pounding in his chest like drums, and they can hear it, that heartbeat, that swell of emotion. unsteady hands reach out, closer to that warmth, encasing his hands in their own, and they can’t even see that little thing pinched between lea’s fingers anymore with the burning tears that roll from his cheeks. he’s not supposed to be the crybaby, but those little things broaching his heart — making him so soft, so raw —
❝ yes, ❞ he breathes, and it takes effort to spew out the word from his closing throat, like that love wrapped right around them and started squeezing about his body. ❝ yes. ❞ more sure, this time; his grip around lea’s hands tighten, and they’re bringing themself in to intercept his lips, sowing little pockets of infinity over anywhere they can reach. a trembling breath is taken. his body hums with adoration, so tender that one could rip him apart and be consumed by the emotion that bursts from his happy guts. ❝ i love you, lea. i... ❞ those little things. those infinitesimal, little things. ❝ of course. of course. ❞
jacobvanloon
romaincrisis
izzy806
janainaart
ellievsbear
blakekathryn
