#* ft. ara

[superpcsitions]

@aramintiax​ !

     “MIGHT I HAVE this dance?” arlo rouselle was not blessed with dancer genes. tall and lanky, the boy isn’t very smooth but he sure does try, at the very least. it’s a slower tempo song playing currently and arlo has found ara in the crowd, hence his extended hand and the smile on his face. “just like old times, ara,” he tells her sweetly. “like that time we slow danced in your kitchen when we were young. wasn’t it super late?” he takes her hand gingerly and laughs. “and didn’t i knock over a few pots and pans because i didn’t want to step on you? if i remember correctly, your mother wasn’t too thrilled at that. i don’t blame her, but i’ll try just as hard not to step on you this time.”

[superpcsitions]

@aramintiax​ !

     THE THOUGHT HAS lingered in the back of his head ever since he sensed something was off between ara and florian. two of the most important people in arlo’s life, and he has no idea why it is that he can’t remember them interacting. this isn’t a big island, and the energy in the room at florian’s birthday brunch was thick. awkward, even. there’s lingering tension between them and he can’t figure out why. and it’s not like arlo and florian are exclusive or anything so it’s not like he has to say anything — in fact, he shouldn’t. if he’s learned anything about florian, it’s that he moved too fast last time and arlo’s putting energy towards keeping things casual. because that’s what he’s supposed to do.

but if something happened between ara and florian, he feels kind of obligated to know.

the pair are sitting in ara’s room, the windows wide open and the breeze pirouetting around the room. it flicks through the pages of a book on her nightstand. it rustles the bedsheets. it’s refreshing. arlo’s got a book in his hand as he sits, back against her bed and the book propped on his knee. “so, um–“ he clears his throat. there’s no easy way to go about this question. “florian.” saying his name even makes arlo almost shudder with nerves. his finger runs along the edge of the hardback cover and he purses his lips. “what do you think of him?”

[superpcsitions]

🍎 -- - arlo rouselle & aramintia korra ( @aramintiax )

[superpcsitions]

@aramintiax !

     THE AIR IS warm, a bit moist but crisp nonetheless as arlo and ara sit in his room with the windows propped wide open. unfortunately, arlo was not blessed with a room with a view when he moved in next door to the bed and breakfast he works at, but a roof over his head was infinitely more important than the aesthetic of it. it’s very arlo, in the sense that there’s nothing incredibly him in the room because he never had intentions of staying for long. aside from the filled notebooks, poetry books, and empty bottles of wine that currently hold dried up flowers on the window sill, the rest of the room is rather bleak with shades of white and grey, splashes of maroon providing some life. he’s laying sideways in his bed, his head resting on ara’s lap and his legs hanging over the edge. “do you remember going to marseille that one summer?” he looks up at her and offers her a soft grin. “and we convinced that australian couple that we just got engaged so they’d buy us bottles of wine?” he laughs to himself and lets out a sigh. “and we got drunk by the water?”

he grabs her hand and toys with her fingers.  “voulez-vous un spliff?”

[superpcsitions]

@aramintiax​ !

    HE FEELS GUILT. love. lust. the things he feels for ara are so beyond complicated but ultimately, guilt sits above them all. he’d do anything for this girl, and he’s convinced that the universe reunited them for one reason or another. and it’s complicated, isn’t it? for arlo to be hung up about someone and sleeping with other people in the meantime. his underlying fear of commitment to one person makes his skin crawl, because whose to say someone’s not going to get hurt in the process? and he’s not even sure what would be worse: his own feelings getting hurt, or his capability of hurting others. right now, he’s concerned for ara. the last thing he wants to do is hurt her but sometimes, it’s as if his attraction to her is overwhelming and all he can think about is how much he needs her, wants her by his side, touching his hair and wrapping her arms around him.

as they walk back to the house, arlo looking like the complete drunken mess that he is, he sticks out a hand for her to hold, though there’s a good distance between the two. some makeup is smeared on his face, his hair is sticking up in every which way, his shirt is draped over his shoulders, his zipper is down, his left shoe has skid marks all over it, and there may or may not be a few... marks on his neck. “are you sure you didn’t wanna–” he hiccups. “you didn’t wanna spend the night with tempest?” his voice is small, almost child-like in how innocent and timid he sounds as he speaks. “i feel bad that i– i took you away from her.” well, it could’ve been his inability to stand up straight and how he may or may not have vomited into a bush across the street from eleutherios that sent arlo and thus ara home. plus, it was ridiculously late— or early, depending on how you looked at it. “sorry.”

[superpcsitions]

@aramintiax !

     “WANT TO HEAR how much of a fucking mess i am?” arlo’s not subtle in that he’s quite drunk at this point of the fundraiser while he slides up behind ara, places a hand on the small of her back and whispers in her ear. well, it’s an attempt at a whisper. he snickers and sips at the drink in his hand— wine, as per usual. “first off, thank you for tying my tie for me earlier. two people have already pointed out how shocked they are that i own one, and one person said they didn’t recognize me. you know that little lady down the block that makes those necklaces?” he wrinkles his nose. “i’m finally doing my family justice by quite literally selling my body for charity. not literally, this isn’t a prostitution ring, but it will be if i end up sleeping with my date who is, might i add, engaged to a man.” arlo laughs but it’s not very genuine— in fact, it’s almost somber. “and i–” he points behind him and staggers a bit in his step. “i don’t want to disrespect your line of work, mon cherie, but i just had a hot make-out session in the sculptures room and they have a significant other as well. it’s like–” he takes in a deep inhale and shakes his head once more.

“you look lovely, by the way. but you’d look lovely in a trash bag.”

[superpcsitions]

@aramintiax​ !

     WINE DRUNK, AS per usual, arlo’s seated outside at a cute little restaurant with ara. the sun is setting, casting a gorgeous orange blanket on the land like mother nature herself is tucking the world into bed. cruise ships in the distance bob on the water, birds are chirping, and the tourists are all out. the weather is perfect, really, but when is it not in kaos? it’s a gorgeous night and this particular restaurant had a great deal on half priced bottles. so, nearly two bottles of wine polished off, arlo and ara are quite intoxicated. they’re laughing, as they usually are, and he extends his arm across the table lazily. he lowers his head so his cheek is resting on his forearm and he lets out a sigh. “ara...” he hums. “could i–” he laughs. a hiccup interrupts him and his eyes droop for a moment. “could i get your– your blessing?” he snickers again and lets his eyes fall to a close. “i don’t have parents that could dispro- approve of someone, so– you’re the– the next best thing.”

[superpcsitions]

fmk: ara, florian, magnolia.

" i will not, out of good measure, kill any of these people. like, i physically cannot choose that for any of them. so, i’d say: fuck florian, marry ara, kiss magnolia. ”