the green stem is thin between his fingers. it feels sturdy. stronger than his certainty. god he remembers; when he’d never ever stopped to consider an alternative, when he’d never second-guessed. he’d been so sure, of everything. now uncertainty fills him like a tidal wave. he feels silly, even though no one pays attention. they are occupied by the more overt shows of wealth, creativity... whatever complicated english word his mind won’t give him at the moment.
he doesn’t even realise how his own strides slow until he’s close enough to catch her scent off the nape of her neck. palm grazes the back of her hand, fingertips ghost her knuckles, before gently lacing them. “ ... it’s not much. ” brows knit earnestly, offering her the rose. its crimson matches her dress. “ i’m getting there. ” [ @vanamc ]