there's a wince as comb sweeps through her hair , catching itself on knot . apollo is alert at once , concern colouring his eyes before he realizes what's happened . ❛ ah — hold still . let me get that for you . ❜ worry leaves his brows , replaced by focus as fingers deftly disentangle the strands . ❛ there . all — ❜ he starts , but as eyes fall away from her hair and connect with hers again , his breath hitches at the unexpectedly close proximity . ❛ — all ... better . ❜ ' better , ' he says . as in , he better move away . 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 . he doesn't and still he doesn't , but then he does and this hardwired step backwards feels in more ways than one a betrayal to what the god has been trying to work towards . courage . if he lets this moment escape him ( again ) , it will only become harder to see what is in front of him .
not allowing himself another second to think on it , he grabs her hand . she does not pull away , and the lump in his throat feels unswallowable . ❛ grace . i ... ❜ but then he senses it : familiar godly presence outside the door , and just before he knows it will unceremoniously kick open and persephone will stride in , apollo drops grace's hand and takes an ample step back . unsure of the emotion held in his eyes , he simply turns himself away , the same hand that had held hers landing on the back of his neck .
They have been closer than that, music guiding every step, an empty hall made into the stage for dance (hand in hand, the way she had promised they would weather whatever was thrown his way). Something is different, however, in the awareness of that closeness, heavy with a tension that makes her heart skip a beat and keeps her gaze on Apollo, as if entranced.
It's one of those moments: the ones that feel like the edge of something, where you could take the plunge and everything would change.
Or you could step back, and return to the comfortable normalcy of what had been before.
As Grace looks down and then avoids his gaze, trance broken by his decision to step back, she offers a Thank you and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear — only to be immediately drawn back when he grabs her hand, brown eyes widening in surprise when she looks at him again.
Her hand is not pulled back (how could it, when it had been the distance that disappointed her even more than she would've expected?); previous avoidance all gone. The truth is she doesn't want the space between them to be increased, and this makes it feel like even the momentary step back should be welcome.
Was this it, distance taken for the jump instead of retracting to safety?
She waits with bated breath, eager for the words Apollo fights to offer. The hesitant start is so simple, yet even that has her captivated (had her name ever sounded as sweet as it does when he says it, at once quiet and full of emotions she cannot quite describe?). But whatever he had wanted to say is lost in the moment, her hand dropped and the distance between them increased.
Oh. It takes effort to remain neutral, the hand he had been holding now closed in a fist upon her lap. Maybe it's for the best. Grace can hear Persephone come in, no warning nor request offered, and she knows the disappointment would be harder to conceal had that conversation gone any further.
Not for the first time, the Muse wonders if what she wants clouds her judgment of what is. Is she expecting too much? Was he even interested in her like that? They had known each other for such a short amount of time, intense as things may have been. Apollo had never promised anything of the sort. Had he even suggested that's what he wants?
Maybe it was all in her head. It's not like she had the best track of understanding the signs when it came to romantic relationships.
It's good that he turns his back, she thinks. This way he can't see the look in her eyes as she glances at the Sun God, somewhere between longing and disheartened. She could just take the initiative, sure, make her feelings known and hope for the best while preparing for the worst. But moments like this, when the ground feels uncertain as quicksand, make her too fearful of a misstep being more costly than mere rejection. She could be reading it all wrong. And she valued him too much as a friend to risk losing that, too.
Grace closes her eyes, head thrown back to rest upon the couch. It wouldn't do for Persephone to walk in on that — and walk in she did, the sound of each footstep echoing; even without seeing, the Muse knows she enters the room as if she owns the place.
A good distraction. Grace can leave the frustration at herself to be taken on innocent pillows when no one else is in her home. Or maybe a song. There is no better fuel for a song than having one's heart bared, and even if it wasn't for others, she can feel the vulnerability acutely.
❝ Hi, Persephone. ❞ No word is offered to Apollo; not now. Maybe, when it's just the two of them again, she would ask what was it he meant to say. Maybe. ❝ I don't remember giving you the keys to my apartment. ❞
