🌿rasa and kuri obviously.
@pyrakanthaa
Rasa reached across the table for Kuri’s hand.
In the years that they’ve known each other, Rasa has learned to say much with his hands. But it was years folded into years before he could say ‘I love you,’ with a touch. With a light squeeze and a brush of his thumb.
He liked the idea of taking care of Kuri, on the days she opens herself up to it. Of letting her sit down knowing that he’s already placed the order— transactions tucked away so they could enjoy the quiet of each other. He knew what she liked, and what she would humor him enough to try.
“Under the mistletoe,” the waiter brought them two matching glasses, “this is our Malfy Rosa and vanilla vodka, with cranberries, lemon, rosemary— topped with blueberries.”
When they are left alone once more, Rasa did not hesitate to lean in. “Wouldn’t want to take a chance with bad luck,” he signed. Toasted, and then tasted her lips— the floral blush of gin, and smooth vanilla vodka with a sweetness that couldn’t just be the fruits swirling in their glasses.










