09-26-2018, 09:20 PM
Natalie had never found patience difficult. Silence that made her restless and miserable only seconds before hit a different note now, perhaps calmed by the brush of Jay's fingers. She'd never thought to find comfort in so innocent a touch, but it narrowed the weight of her thoughts to the whisper of her own breath. In that quiet place she was prepared for a hard truth, and unafraid to hear it. Though he stared a long time. At their hands. At whatever he saw in her expression when he tucked the hair from her face.
The world's eternal revolution might turn over this moment a thousand times, yet even such a jaded soul as hers would never inure to the impact of meaning in those words finally spoken.
A protective stir in her chest insisted that yes, he could, whilst at the same time dawning on the realisation of how fiercely she did not wish him to have to. The sparks of dying light drained her eyes almost colourless, though the planes of her expression had softened. She did not plunge too deep into the currents of those emotions, like they were something fragile, too easy to shatter.
But understanding slipped beneath the walls she surrounded herself with; settled some place she was not yet ready to explore.
His bruised hand slipped away. She'd missed the sunset but noticed the creeping shadows now, dragging grey and robbing colour. The grass was cold beneath her feet, and chills chased bare skin, though maybe the latter was not the weather. Natalie did not believe in destiny. She did not believe in kismet. And her heart was far too fucking sore to think anything like fate might have tangled them in such a knot, unless it was simply to give them enough rope for hanging. Oh, her cynic's soul could believe that.
Forgiveness was not in her nature, and she'd armed herself too fiercely to lay down those weapons entirely. Maybe guilt loosened his grip on her hand, and if so she did not regret that he felt it. He deserved to feel it. But there was something stronger than the spite snapping revenge for her own pain, or at least something more durable. He would be foolish to think she was no longer angry, or hurt, but more foolish to think it made any difference now. Not to the things that mattered.
Her gaze searched for evidence that he truly thought she would turn her back; or at least that he thought she would do so because it was what she actually wanted. Maybe alcohol blunted the reach of yesterday's confessions, but it made their essence no less true. Likely he did not realise her refusal to speak to Alistair was in retaliation of a betrayal endured, not irritation at a broken compact. She wasn't about to walk away.
The weight of Jay's shadow fell like warm wool when she moved away from the picnic table, though possibly that was the temptation of how close a single step brought her. Her fingers grazed the back of his hand, fluttering beneath the edge of his sleeve to caress the soft inside of his wrist without seeking to grasp, waiting patiently for the realisation to begin settling like the first stalwart stars peeking through the darkening blanket above; always there, even if no one bothered to look up. It was cruel to taunt, but then she had always been a tease. The curve of a smile began to soften her mouth, though she was not sure Jay knew her well enough to recognise the tells that intimated her warped sense of humour. Aaron never had.
Because if Jay was given to drama, Natalie was inclined to irreverence. It got her into trouble more often than it sparked the sorts of grins that tugged at Jay's lips and curled ties in her heart when she wasn't looking. Even the last few moment's torment flashed a trail of them, small beacons through a storm that felt dangerously like it led to home. A thought that threatened to scald, advising caution which she knew she would not heed. So for now she didn't think about it.
Her reckless heart beat hard when she pressed up on her toes, capturing the roughness of his cheek to pull his attention close. The brim of his hat shadowed them both when her face hovered near enough to steal the breath from his lips, enraptured. Toying with her own boundaries of control. The faint curve of her smirk sharpened wicked. "Then stop letting me go, stupid." The breathy words cut a caustic tone, intentional. She knew enough to know she hated what he had done, all of it, and wasn't likely to shy away from the ugliness of that truth even to spare his guilt. But if it was scathing it was playful too, unravelling that darkness with the promise of her presence regardless, and poking holes in every doubt with a brazen dare to contradict her certainty.
The world's eternal revolution might turn over this moment a thousand times, yet even such a jaded soul as hers would never inure to the impact of meaning in those words finally spoken.
A protective stir in her chest insisted that yes, he could, whilst at the same time dawning on the realisation of how fiercely she did not wish him to have to. The sparks of dying light drained her eyes almost colourless, though the planes of her expression had softened. She did not plunge too deep into the currents of those emotions, like they were something fragile, too easy to shatter.
But understanding slipped beneath the walls she surrounded herself with; settled some place she was not yet ready to explore.
His bruised hand slipped away. She'd missed the sunset but noticed the creeping shadows now, dragging grey and robbing colour. The grass was cold beneath her feet, and chills chased bare skin, though maybe the latter was not the weather. Natalie did not believe in destiny. She did not believe in kismet. And her heart was far too fucking sore to think anything like fate might have tangled them in such a knot, unless it was simply to give them enough rope for hanging. Oh, her cynic's soul could believe that.
Forgiveness was not in her nature, and she'd armed herself too fiercely to lay down those weapons entirely. Maybe guilt loosened his grip on her hand, and if so she did not regret that he felt it. He deserved to feel it. But there was something stronger than the spite snapping revenge for her own pain, or at least something more durable. He would be foolish to think she was no longer angry, or hurt, but more foolish to think it made any difference now. Not to the things that mattered.
Her gaze searched for evidence that he truly thought she would turn her back; or at least that he thought she would do so because it was what she actually wanted. Maybe alcohol blunted the reach of yesterday's confessions, but it made their essence no less true. Likely he did not realise her refusal to speak to Alistair was in retaliation of a betrayal endured, not irritation at a broken compact. She wasn't about to walk away.
The weight of Jay's shadow fell like warm wool when she moved away from the picnic table, though possibly that was the temptation of how close a single step brought her. Her fingers grazed the back of his hand, fluttering beneath the edge of his sleeve to caress the soft inside of his wrist without seeking to grasp, waiting patiently for the realisation to begin settling like the first stalwart stars peeking through the darkening blanket above; always there, even if no one bothered to look up. It was cruel to taunt, but then she had always been a tease. The curve of a smile began to soften her mouth, though she was not sure Jay knew her well enough to recognise the tells that intimated her warped sense of humour. Aaron never had.
Because if Jay was given to drama, Natalie was inclined to irreverence. It got her into trouble more often than it sparked the sorts of grins that tugged at Jay's lips and curled ties in her heart when she wasn't looking. Even the last few moment's torment flashed a trail of them, small beacons through a storm that felt dangerously like it led to home. A thought that threatened to scald, advising caution which she knew she would not heed. So for now she didn't think about it.
Her reckless heart beat hard when she pressed up on her toes, capturing the roughness of his cheek to pull his attention close. The brim of his hat shadowed them both when her face hovered near enough to steal the breath from his lips, enraptured. Toying with her own boundaries of control. The faint curve of her smirk sharpened wicked. "Then stop letting me go, stupid." The breathy words cut a caustic tone, intentional. She knew enough to know she hated what he had done, all of it, and wasn't likely to shy away from the ugliness of that truth even to spare his guilt. But if it was scathing it was playful too, unravelling that darkness with the promise of her presence regardless, and poking holes in every doubt with a brazen dare to contradict her certainty.