The whole roses as a love language between Hideduo is going to drive me insane its so cheesy but what are we gays if we don't love cliche?
Pac gifting them to his date today.
Fit wearing one on his lapel to their first outing.
Fit mentioning he used to play guitar and now all I can picture is one carved into the faceplate of a damaged stringed instrument, one the anarchist picked up once more because it was the only thing that quieted both their night terrors.
The way his deep voice rolled and harmonized with the shaky picking of calloused fingers against steel strings, echoing against the stone walls they stayed within. Songs he hadn't given himself the chance to sing in years, bringing comfort to the couple in the earliest of mornings. Allowing himself to find kindness between keynotes, to share this intimate show of his soul to the one who now held the key. Used to keeping secrets for so long, his worst spoken aloud already, no judgement was cast between them for either of their sins or histories.
Of the fog burning off the river as Fit makes tea, guiding Pac's trembling hands to the proper spots on the neck of the instrument while waiting for it to steep. Spices and notes surrounding them as they re-learned together, scales rising and falling with the gentle lapping of the water against the shore below.
Finding love in the hints of shaky music and heavy aromas of roses, in the hesitant new beginnings of a starting courtship seeing the worst of each other and still accepting them no matter how battered or broken.
No matter the secret or habit, they do not wish for the other to change, only to support them through it all.
They are both on their first date and their forever partnership, forced together by horrifying circumstances but finding sanctuary in one another's arms and words.
A traumatized anarchist and a damaged prisoner found each other on the chaotic, dramatic land that is called Quesadilla Island, and I am so excited to watch them take their next steps together.
