open : f/m/nb .
the air feels thick , desolate and hostile . three impressionable words that ivy never wants to suggest , yet , they all spring to mind . confession has thrown her off entirely , the preparation of her own now out the window as absorption of information is at the forefront ⸻ a burrowing of feelings piled down , replicating the laced confusion on her cadence . “ wait , let me get this right : you’re … engaged ? ” slow , and deliberate , her voice rings out in a silence , uncomfortable and struck with her own disbelief as she turns , hand in her hair to brush tresses past shoulders . smiles next , though painfully forced and sterile , familiarity of environment , then a nod ; as if to fully understand . “ well ⸻ what do you want me to say ? congratulations to the happy couple ? ”











