love lost

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝    you    need    to    convince    him    to    make    up    with    her.    send    flowers.    chocolates.    diamonds.    i    don’t    care.    or    this    is    all    going    to    garbage.    ❞

open to anyone.

She's not sure what to think, in all honesty. There had never quite been a point where she had thought about crossing the line of what they had. It was human to look, human to spend so much time with someone and not allow your mind to wonder. Would it have been so terrible, to think about what it might have felt like to touch him, without reason? To allow fingertips to drape along the curve of his neck, or beneath his jaw where the stubble of hair grew? She had felt so much guilt for wanting it before. She had pushed herself away from that feeling with Cassian, until it was too much to sleep with. She had never allowed herself to uncover what she might have felt for Matthias, if she were to let that warmth catch up to her. For a girl who wanted love as badly as she did, it was almost as if it was instinct to push it away. Almost as if, some part of her truly believed that she didn't deserve it. And God, how easy it was to wallow in her own guilt. How easy it would have been, to ignore it- until it wasn't. Until she was forced to come to terms with the way sweat kissed his forehead, or down the valley of his spine that peaked through his shirt. Until she caught glimpse of him exiting the shower, pretending to pay attention to the book in her hand only to read the same line over and over again, as his bare torso hadn't sent a wave of shivers along her arms and legs. How when he looked back at her like he was now, that it didn't take every ounce of self control she's ever learned, to not pull him into her.

Gabriella had been starved of warmth ever since she can remember. So when it comes, it buries like waves that felt never ending. She's holding her breath and she doesn't even realize it, as her lips still tingled with the taste of him. The heart beating in her chest was a drum worthy of wars and it'd been nearly deafening now, in sync with his. She doesn't move as his frame does, staring down at nothing as her brain tries to keep up with what was happening. Suddenly, the water ripples around her, and he's closer. Closer than he'd ever been before. Her trance is snapped from the depths of her own mind, back to the moment with him. She's compelled by the shift in his gaze, and how he looks at her. How eager and hunger and want, darkened already onyx colored eyes. If she was the universe, filled with light - she could have sworn she had seen glimpses of the cosmos in his. And it's petrifying, all at the same time. Her stomach flips, legs gently parted as he's now the same level as she was, sitting there on that concrete.

As the words left his lips only to be met by hears again, he no longer cared for what he wanted to say. No, he could not even remember the thoughts that parted him away. Ruby felt her hunger, he felt her push back against him, he felt the desire rising and roaring wild like a burning flame set alight by the gentlest rogue spark. Except, she wasn't the only one who had been starving. Not the only one who longed for touch, for comfort, for whatever this had been. And while he had been forced, his entire life, to rely on rational thought, to prioritise the power of the mind, to hone restraint and resilience -- he was simply fucking tired. For years he had done nothing but pull away, he had no choice on the matter, and he was content with the idea he might have to spend the rest of his life that way. But now, with her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands lost in his hair dancing over his skin like the drops of water falling every which way, he was reminded -- at the end of the day, he was still just a man. A man who wanted her, a man she wanted back, and there was not an ounce of shame in that.

Without pulling away, he is grabbing onto her, both gentle and rough at the same time. He couldn't remember ever wanting something -- someone, so bad. His lips pass to the corner of hers, tracing down her jawline onto her neck and he lifts her up with newfound strength holding her tight around him as he stepped out of the pool carrying her back to the room they seem to have left a whole lifetime ago. Once they enter, the air feels different, lighter, and the silence is no longer loud, and he drops her without hesitation on top of an unmade bed. For a split second his eyes pass over her as she lay there, water on her legs shining against the dim lights fighting their way in from the outside. He's not sure if he smiles or not, not sure whether she can see as he devours her without fear, without hesitation, eyes passing over every curve --

Gabriella had always done everything heart over head first. And truth be told, she couldn’t tell you if this was longing that had feathered between them into something more. If maybe this was a way of seeking comfort when you missed home— but had nowhere to run back to. Part of her wonders if he knew this would happen, if he could see glimpses of the future, had panted breathes and eager fingertips been part of that? Had he seen her naked, before actually seeing her naked? How much more bare could she be, when she’s exposed every ounce of herself to him. When he’s felt every drop of love, hate, guilt, and light. She’d always been hot to the touch. Always fuming beneath the surface, somewhere. Burning up. And it was easy, with men like Cassian. Men like Matthias. Men whose fingertips were made of ice, and how she could feel the traces of them left behind like melting glaciers. Ruby was different. She hadn’t fallen in love with him all at once. It was a slow kindling, a slow burn that started from the tips of her toes, until her chest started expanding. She didn’t love him— not entirely, at least. She loved that he was kind. She loved that he was warm, and understanding. She loved that he was funny, and charming, without meaning to be. She loved the quietness she felt with him. The ease, like she was meant to be there. Like she was looking out at the ocean, and not off the edge of a cliff. And when he kisses her, deep and gentle passionate, her body follows. Her tongue delves into his mouth, and she’s tasting him. When they’re back in the motel, her back hits the bed and she arches gently into the embrace. When he pauses, the second of a hesitation, Gabi doesn’t allow it to linger for long. Her eyes are fluttered up to meet his, and the hunger that encapsulates him is flaunted over every aspect of her. The reassurance he needs, is echoed in the way her fingertips pulled at the hem of her shirt. The fabric wet and sticking to her skin, as it’s tossed off to the floor wherever his had fumbled, her chest now bare beneath him.

The rest of their clothes came off in between quiet movements, until the only thing circling their bodies was the thin white sheet that clung around them and the hotel bed. Her hips are arching up into his, and her eyes are fluttering shut when she feels him pressed against the inside of her thigh. She’s greedy in moments like this, hand snaking down between them to stroke him, only after he’d already tasted every part of her. There was no going back from this, the sounds escaping from parted lips are hushed as she almost bites down into his shoulder, eyes flickering shades of gold— the only indicator other than ethereal beauty, that she wasn’t entirely human. It’s not until he’s on top of her again, does she wrap her legs around his waist. The tip of his cock shifting between where she wants him most, until he’s inside her. Parted lips are delicately falling open, eyes fluttered shut as she adjusted to his size. It’s needy, and hungry, the movements slow at first as her hands are tugging through the nape of his neck, raking through curls to hold him tighter as her hips began to buck against his. Quiet moans turned louder, pleas falling from her lips like a hymn. What started off soft, became eager and desperate to feel him. Again and again, as he pushed deeper into her each time, practically dripping around him. His name felt sweet on her lips, as her eyes fluttered upwards to meet his. And he looked so good like this, her heart fluttering in excitement as the creaky bed started to echo in the room, the headboard hitting the back of the wall as a labor of pleasure. Praises are sung from her lips, and it’s not for show, the sounds escaping are making her dizzy with him. She can feel him everywhere. The wolf inside her doesn’t scream for dominance, but rather submits under the weight of his frame, nuzzling against his neck where she’ll scatter kisses in between breaths. It’s only then, does she switch them. Their frames twisting with ease, her inhuman strength breaking the veil of delicacy her body tricks you into believing.

Sometimes he wondered if his steps could be felt against gentle plains of thoughts. If his lurking was easily noticed. There were times he was certain they felt him, every single being he had entered, at any point. Maybe they mistook him for a paranoid thought, maybe they felt an intrusion, a deja-vu, an uncomfortable shiver down their spine. He would notice it...at times. Like how once he sat down for dinner and watched the waitress look around as he had exited her mind, confused, scratching her ear and taking off the apron to go for a cigarette break. He carried heavy the fact that his powers exhausted him. That being a traveler through a dimension of dreams and colours took a toll. But he rarely stopped to think what it might've done to those who let him in, like a parasite unable to resist the pull. And he wondered now, as he stared back into eyes that lingered on his a moment too long, if he too was a heavy toll. If her mind itched, if he had stepped too far in. -- One thing was certain. He had never been let in so deep. Never seen a vision so clean, so vivid, so real. Even now it echoed like a memory, and a warmth he had felt within grew hotter with each heartbeat.

Ruby was never the guy who made the first move, never the one to let his eyes observe beyond acceptable measure. He was confined, content and careful not to attach. But time spent with her, it made his usual restrain grow thinner, more faint, with each passing moment. He looked, sometimes without meaning to, at the soft skin of her forearms as she kept them on a wheel, at the nape of her neck as she leaned against a mirror lost inside pages of a book she'd pick up along the way. He looked as she pulled up her hair, as she gently offered directions to strangers who felt she'd be unable to turn them away. He looked when the door of the bathroom was left slightly ajar, as the towel would fall beneath her feet unaware the curves of her waist showing as she slipped on a shirt -- and how looking would make him flush and run out for some fresh air. He looked, and he never let his thoughts take it further than that. Never pictured her naked, never hoped to see her that way. They were friends. He respected that, he indulged that -- nothing more.

But now she looks back, her eyes searching for something he didn't understand. And he found himself not shying away from those eyes as he did every now and again. He feels her leaning in, emboldened perhaps by his previous liberty to close the space between them. Only, her distance is removed by the gentle press against his lips, and he's bracing himself to be pulled back in, to the layers of her mind, to the vision still crisp and clear. The house by the sea, the white fence, the wooden door -- he's redying to transcend but the seconds pass, and he's still here, and he's seeing and he's feeling nothing more than the warmth of gentle lips, of soft breath against his skin. --- And as quickly as it came, the moment was gone, and he had barely enough time to process the whole thing. There's a stuttered apology, a heaviness radiating from her body like a radioactive wave of fear and regret -- and he does not want her to feel as if a single impulse, a moment of desire, was grand enough to shatter the comfort that existed between them.

So he pushes himself forward, into the shallow water of the pool and appears in front of her, nudging her legs open so he can lean in. With faces in line, and lips only inches away, his eyes demand hers and his heart runs faster with every second he lets get away. Then, with much thought and no regret, he closes the space between them again. His lips brush against hers, eyes shut, and he lets himself feel her, simply and physically, in a way he never could. A wet hand slips behind her waist, pulling her in against his chest as the other trails up to the back of her neck. Swiftly, he lifts her off the pool edge, gently and slowly, into the cold water.

She's not sure what to think, in all honesty. There had never quite been a point where she had thought about crossing the line of what they had. It was human to look, human to spend so much time with someone and not allow your mind to wonder. Would it have been so terrible, to think about what it might have felt like to touch him, without reason? To allow fingertips to drape along the curve of his neck, or beneath his jaw where the stubble of hair grew? She had felt so much guilt for wanting it before. She had pushed herself away from that feeling with Cassian, until it was too much to sleep with. She had never allowed herself to uncover what she might have felt for Matthias, if she were to let that warmth catch up to her. For a girl who wanted love as badly as she did, it was almost as if it was instinct to push it away. Almost as if, some part of her truly believed that she didn't deserve it. And God, how easy it was to wallow in her own guilt. How easy it would have been, to ignore it- until it wasn't. Until she was forced to come to terms with the way sweat kissed his forehead, or down the valley of his spine that peaked through his shirt. Until she caught glimpse of him exiting the shower, pretending to pay attention to the book in her hand only to read the same line over and over again, as his bare torso hadn't sent a wave of shivers along her arms and legs. How when he looked back at her like he was now, that it didn't take every ounce of self control she's ever learned, to not pull him into her.

Gabriella had been starved of warmth ever since she can remember. So when it comes, it buries like waves that felt never ending. She's holding her breath and she doesn't even realize it, as her lips still tingled with the taste of him. The heart beating in her chest was a drum worthy of wars and it'd been nearly deafening now, in sync with his. She doesn't move as his frame does, staring down at nothing as her brain tries to keep up with what was happening. Suddenly, the water ripples around her, and he's closer. Closer than he'd ever been before. Her trance is snapped from the depths of her own mind, back to the moment with him. She's compelled by the shift in his gaze, and how he looks at her. How eager and hunger and want, darkened already onyx colored eyes. If she was the universe, filled with light - she could have sworn she had seen glimpses of the cosmos in his. And it's petrifying, all at the same time. Her stomach flips, legs gently parted as he's now the same level as she was, sitting there on that concrete.

It would be crazy to think she didn’t know people, that she didn’t pay attention to finer details that make up a person. So she’d by lying if she said that she’d hadn’t noticed the slight hue of pink that warmed the bridge of his nose. That she doesn’t notice the way the corners of his eyes softened, and how she’d seen it before, in the most callous of men. It was easier to spot with them, from a cold gaze that’s frozen with tips of ice— the slightest touch of warmth was easily found in a coarse winter. But Ruby— it was hard to recognize when he burns all the time, just as she did. But Gabi decided awhile ago, she preferred his laugh over anything else. It’d been over a year since her sister’s death. The pain was still there, but not as sharp. And now— now she didn’t want to let it consume her. She wanted to have happy moments, without the guilt that trailed behind it. Slowly but surely, she was beginning to feel something again. A flicker of warmth. An emblem of trust. And it was with him. “Oh my sneeze is loud, out of nowhere too— it’ll probably scare you. Hopefully you’re not driving. Or sleeping.” She laughs again, and it looks good on her. It feels good on her, to laugh again. Still, she drums fingertips on the concrete, and listens again. He had so much to say about the universe, and she couldn’t help but feel small in the grand scheme of things. How much value, was a human life? When she left this world, would she be with her sister again? Was there a veil? Would she find it? Or would they all just disappear into one vast existing? She didn’t like to think about it, if she’s being honest. She’d lived step in step with Death himself, and though he always seemed to spare her, there was a cost to his kindness.

The first time Ruby got swallowed into another mind, it felt like drowning. Like falling through thin ice into freezing cold water, kicking and twisting frantically for the surface, unable to guess in which direction the surface might even be. It took time, after that, to relax when falling through the thin ice of consciousness. To follow the bubbles of thought which showed the way out. It took even more time to grow accustomed to the sensations. To sudden attacks of emotions and thoughts and colours, to develop thicker skin, to shake less during recovery, to remember to breathe. Having tools helped. Tarot cards, teacups, herbs and books. And once he learnt how to use them, how to allow nature to help him with a 'gift' it bestowed, it all got a little easier. A little less frightening, a little less tiring. Now, at this point in time, Ruby could confidently say he was used to it all. Acceptance. And while there is layers to acceptance, layers of which he still grappled with -- he no longer wished to have been born different. Normal. What he wished for now was only to accept himself further, to accept that which he would never get to have.

Gabriella had her own wishes, and while he had been inside her mind, got swallowed up by it, beaten up by the heaviness of her grief, her loss, her fears, she still managed to surprise him. Often. Now. -- He fights the surprise of her reaching for his hand. His offer. Heart fastening at the prospect of her skin against his, observing hesitant fingers as they trembled lightly above his own. For a moment he fears she might change her mind, might pull away yet instead he is pulled in --- only this time, he isn't drowning.

The colours of her childhood are dipped in longing, and he can see the warmth of her sister against coldness of her mother. Her mother, smell of rotten fruit, a sound of fast river. He doesn't stay there long, he doesn't feel anything but birth -- birth of her desire for love, for acceptance, like a seed longing for water between two sides of concrete. He's swept away by her love now, that same love born out of need, and how it coloured her completely, made her who she was. How it made her understanding, and soft and forgiving, how it made her careful, and jaded, and vulnerable. He can see faces of men, those who dived into her colours, who took and who gave, and still left her wanting. There is a darkness next, but he had seen it before, he had seen the colours muted, seen the hopes long gone and forgotten, and how she feared she would never feel herself again. This time, the darkness doesn't scare him, he clutches tighter to her hand, leans closer in, and with her help he steps through the darkness still, following that speck of light, that spark she'd once begged for him to see. And as he gets closer, the light grows stronger, the colours start peaking in and he's blinded by it, so blinded he covers his eyes, right before her, even though they sat by the pool at night, her light was so blinding he couldn't see -- not until he stepped in, and his eyes adjusted to the view within. The vision was now clear, the kind of clear he had never seen before, clearer than reality. It was not colours, it was the feeling of warm sand beneath his feet as the gentle ocean waves hit the shore. The call of seagulls as they crashed against its surface, the smell of salt in their air, and the gentle wind. He looks around to see a house, and a garden and tall wooden door. And there she is, older than now, her hair longer, pulled back into a messy bun, waves of it hanging against her back. She's carrying with her a knitted wooden basket, walking across the green yard to where freshly washed clothes hung on a string. There's a laughter that echoes, and a child that runs by her feet. For a second it looks like she's about to scold him, but then an older child, a girl, calls out to him and they're gone.

He cannot tell what is happening, if this is a vision, or a dream, or materialised desire. If this is the future, or a part of her mind she had built brick by brick, to hide away in, to grow in. All he knows is that it feels warm and safe, it feels like home. And in that moment she looks up, the older version of her, the girl in the garden of a house by the sea. And she sees him. She takes a step closer, basket half full on her right hip, and her brows furrow as she shields her view from the sun, and she recognises him. Even though he is far out, standing on the other side of the white fence, even though the sun is beaming, and the birds are singing, she knows he is here. And she waves, like she'd been expecting him, like finally...he too was here. He was home.

Before he could wave back, before he could come in -- he is once again by the pool of a nowhere motel, and his hand is clutching onto hers as he digests the intensity of emotions that glossed his eyes over with tears. Only it wasn't sadness, or fear, or drowning -- no, it was hope.

Without thinking, without calculating the outcomes, without fear, Ruby detangles her hand from his and pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her. He lets his chin rest on top of her head, eyes closing as he takes a moment for his heart to fall back into its own beat, its own kind of love. And he's grateful, so infinitely grateful she had let him in, and let him see what it would feel like to be happy, to have a life. In spite all the sorrow, and the depths of her pain, there was not just a speck of her light left shining, there was so much of it it was blinding -- and she would live her dream one day, she would have her home, and he would do whatever it took to once again stand behind a picket fence and wait for her to look up, to see him again.

Seconds must have felt like hours in moments like this. She couldn’t see what he did, but she could feel him. She could feel the soft embrace around her mind, she could feel footprints that weren’t hers, taking careful steps around any edges. When her gaze is reflected along his features, as he’s deep within her mind, she can’t help but admire him. In all that he was. Beautiful is an understatement, the curve of his mouth parted and she never noticed the way his lips pursed before. She hadn’t noticed the faint trace of after shadow, and facial hair that sloped down his chin and jaw. She hadn’t been this close, without being noticed before. His eyes were dark but they were pools of warmth any time he looked back at her. Anytime he looked back at anyone. And she’d known men that reserved that for her, men that had only known softness when it came to the brush of her fingertips. And it was one thing, to be the only thing in the world that they loved. Men like that would watch the world burn, if it meant saving her. Only then what? She’d have to rise from the rubble, and cast a gaze on a world full of ash. What kind of place would that be? How many lives were worth hers? But Ruby— his fingertips weren’t cold, or shivered as they reached for her. He didn’t flinch at the thought of warmth. He was enamored within it. A striked match, doesn’t burn twice.

She’s not sure what he sees, or what warrants the reaction when he comes back to her. His eyes were dark but glossed with flickers of tears she couldn’t trace. And she doesn’t know— she doesn’t know if she even wants to ask, either. Was it terrible? Did her grief swallow him again? Or was it the guilt? He’d covered his eyes as if he were looking into the sun on a summer day, but the only source of light was from the pool reflecting the half full moon back at them. She doesn’t know what to say either, only that she’s being pulled into his embrace for one of the few times between them. His arms acted as a shelter, and his chest was warm but his scent made her dizzy. There was something there she couldn’t place, and the wolf inside her nearly scratched at her surface, giving her the only thing she could describe as a bond. A mating bond. It’s as if the feeling is snapped into place, like a light that’s flickered on, and suddenly it’s coursing through her body in the embrace he held her in. Whatever that feeling was, it’s left her nearly breathless, words unable to form under her tongue as she’s breathing at the same depth as he is. The same inhales, the same exhale. Brims kissed the top of her head, skimming her forehead and she’s reeling without so much as a single movement. Not until her body is wrapping back around him. Arms loosened around his torso, and her frame is nuzzled closer, hearts mirror against each other. Was his beating as fast as hers? If she listened closely, she can hear it.

She seems to be equally on edge. And the realisation both comforts him and increases the worry by a tenfold. It takes him a moment to process the words on the screen, truly process them before he glances at her and back at the screen. Mike had wished he'd been the one who sent it, 'stead he had one more thing to worry about. "No." there's a sting of jealousy. He didn't know what she'd been up to since their break up, if she'd been dating, seeing...texting someone else. And the idea of someone else wanting her, desiring her? It wouldn't suffice to say it made him sick.

There’s a sting, and she doesn’t know if it’s from her ego or feelings luring underneath the surface. A puff of air is split between brims, and it’s mocking— or maybe just annoyance. “Oh I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was talking to hail fucking mary over here.” There’s a glint of hurt that flickered between her gaze but she’s quick to dismiss it with the furrow of brows and the slightest wrinkle on the bridge of her nose. She’ll instantly pull the phone back into her ready, sliding it in the back of denim shorts, and scoffing under her breath again. “As if you haven’t been avoiding me just as much. You practically bolted for the door the moment I walked in for our meeting earlier. I’m surprised you don’t have fucking whiplash.” She’s quick with her temper, she always has been. But he pushed special buttons she couldn’t quite place, always had. When they were kids, everything was a completion. They would go at each others throats more often than not, so expecting the other to not act like they’re hurting the most? It should be expected. Who could not talk to who, the longest. So far, Ana had been winning.

Her heart had always been a vicious thing, reaching for anything it could touch, and wrapping itself around them. And while she had been in love with what felt like a lifetime now, it ended the same each time. What do you do when you're lost in the darkness? You look for the light, even the smallest flicker of it could save you from yourself, couldn't it? He'd told her once, hope was not lost. That she may be wondering through the darkness, but the light within her though dimmed, still flickered. She needed that then, when it felt like the world was going to swallow her whole. When she thought that maybe her grief, might grip onto all that she was, seeping ink unto her skin, until she's drowning in the tar of it all. He'd felt all of it, the weight of the world that bore on every inch of her body, and shouldered it, only to look back at her with tears in his eyes- she was lost, but not forgotten. And how could you? Gabriella Garcia was a name that left wake wherever she was. Strangers stopping at the tilt of her smile, and staying as the warmth melts iced hearts and all that it encompasses. She was a girl born of a curse, only to learn later in life, broken bones under moonlight was nothing compared to the bleeding and broken organ residing in her chest, refusing to give up.

She will pull herself out from the thoughts begging to be heard, only to focus in on her. In the midst somewhere, he had grown to be her safe place. The voices, she heard them too. Not nearly the way he had did, but she understands- to a point. The want to drown it all out. The need for silence. And while part of her wonder, about the girl he thought about back home, she couldn't help but also wonder- what was she compared to a girl with wings? When he nudges her with the soda, there's a quiet flicker of a smile, her eyes peering up from the water where she had averted his gaze before he'd turned around and paced towards her. She could blame the pink that tinted her features on the heat. It'd be easy. "You like the original better." Gabriella finally speaks, her voice quiet for those who welcomed sleep. Still, her gaze shift to the tin can, and she'll let out a small exhale of relief, when she notices the cherry cola flavor, outstretched to her. Fingertips are careful not to brush against his, not because she didn't want it, but because of the depths he'd been swept into just for the sake of touching her. The mind was a trimerous place, and right now- he couldn't be inside hers. Dimples gently touched her cheeks, indenting into the smile before she's taking a long sip, the cool burn a welcomed invitation, before outstretching it back to him, accidentally burping under her breath. "Sorry-" The sound is escaped through a halfway laugh, and those moments were few and far in between. Bella would have laughed. She was so atriously loud with it, proud that she could out-burp anyone in the bar. It was ridiculous. Even when they were kids, she'd do it on purpose sometimes, at the table- when their mother's gaze lingered a little bit too sharpened on Gabriella. And Gabi, in all her innocence, would giggle. The sisters sharing a look of wiggled brows.

"Sometimes, I think I've been so sure of what I've wanted for so long, that the more I wonder about it- the further away it gets." But she'll glance down at her feet again, the blue water rippling around them with the cast of lights from beneath the water. "Sometimes I'm afraid to say it out loud, like I'm going to jinx it." But when he says he'd come with her, even then, her shoulders softened a bit. And she'll make light. "I'd let you live in my pool house." Brows wiggled, just as she once did with her sister, her tone playful, the best she could be. "Or on a hammock, overlooking the ocean." The smile lingers, shifting her gaze up to him and then away again. The truth was, she just didn't want to be alone again. She didn't want a house, empty with the ghost of old memories. She wanted something new, with happiness echoed down the hallways. And truth be told, ever since leaving New Orleans- fuck-- ever since her sister died.. This was the closest to happy she had been.

So she listens, and she's always been good at that. Her eyes find his face when he talks, shifting along his features. You can always tell how much something means to someone, when you look at them talk about things they love. It's in the eyes, you can't lie when it's in the eyes. And his, they sparkled with pictures of his family, two sisters and a mother that despite her flaws- loved them. And she wonders, quietly, what that must have felt like. The only mother's love she'd ever felt, was Bella. Her sister was her keeper, but more often than not- she was her mother, too. "I bet that was nice." Gabriella finally catches herself breathing. "You sound happy. When you talk about them." Lips pursed, and she wanted to say that she felt that, at one point in her life. That she wasn't constantly thrust into the midst of danger. As if she wasn't constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. As if, life sometimes could just be good, all on it's own. But-- she wasn't sure, as sad as it seemed.

Ruby was never taught to put others first. It was something instinctive, like knowing how to blink or how to laugh. His mother used to say he needed more of a backbone, every time he'd let his sisters win a race or whatever game they signed up for. Every time he'd let a kid at the playground take over his toys. Every time he'd go hungry saying he'd already ate so his family could enjoy their pizza night in peace as he nibbled on some fries. He hated pizza, he hated tomatoes and all the many sauces they created; ketchup, pizza sauce, red pasta. Apart from his mother, no one actually knew that, no one paid attention -- because he wanted people to enjoy things he couldn't. And he found more joy in watching others win, others live, than he did experiencing those feelings on his own. So purchasing a flavoured can was not something he thought about, just something he naturally reached for -- and he expected nothing out it but the pleasure of her own satisfaction. Still, as she points out his preference, he's slightly taken aback. She'd been watching him, she'd been observing...and she noticed. It felt good, to be noticed. "Yeah uh, yeah I guess I do." his cheeks flush same colour as hers only moments ago, though he pretended not to see, and a genuine laugh accompanies the words most sweetest burp. At this rate her shit probably smelt like daisies too, it was wild. "That's how you burp? For real? Oh I can't wait to hear you sneeze..." he laughs some more, but he does notice her thoughts taking over, for a single moment. He'd wondered where she'd gone. What memory took it's hold, and for the first time in a long time, Ruby is itching to jump into a head -- uninvited.

There is still restraint there though, the kind that took years to acquire, and she made it easier with her diligent avoidance of his skin. Ruby had noticed it a while back. The way she'd flinch if she bumped into him, or if they reached for the same item at once. He knew why she did it, he knew it was to protect him, to keep herself out -- but a part of him hated the fact that she had to. The fact that touch was so heavy, so consuming. He hated how weak he was, how out of control. And above all, he hated just how much he'd longed for it. Not necessarily with her. He craved to be touched without consequence, without fear. And for a reason as simple as that, a thought as passing and inconsequential, he thought of Duchess yet again. And how good it felt to have her sleep, head on his bare chest, long digits passing through his hair. And how light it was, and how quiet, and warm, and comforting.

As Gabi snaps out of her thoughts, so does he -- instantly pulled back to reality. "I find that saying things out loud makes them more likely to happen...like the first step to manifestation. -- I mean thoughts, dreams...I understand the innate desire to hold on to them, to protect them, as if...if we speak things out the universe might try to play a joke on us, remind us how little control we've got." he clears his throat, eyes narrowed as he looks at nothing in particular, trying his best to vocalise his own thoughts. "See, I think the universe knows our minds anyway. The line between thoughts and words is so fine, so fine." there was art to converting one into the other, and he sometimes struggled with it. Sometimes wished people could jump in and out of his own mind, just to spare him the struggle of expressing that which was mostly a feeling. "You can tell me, these things you've always wanted." he could also do one better, flipping his palm face-up on his lap, an offer. "Or you can show me." there's a gentle lean in, voice dropping. "No pressure."

It would be crazy to think she didn’t know people, that she didn’t pay attention to finer details that make up a person. So she’d by lying if she said that she’d hadn’t noticed the slight hue of pink that warmed the bridge of his nose. That she doesn’t notice the way the corners of his eyes softened, and how she’d seen it before, in the most callous of men. It was easier to spot with them, from a cold gaze that’s frozen with tips of ice— the slightest touch of warmth was easily found in a coarse winter. But Ruby— it was hard to recognize when he burns all the time, just as she did. But Gabi decided awhile ago, she preferred his laugh over anything else. It’d been over a year since her sister’s death. The pain was still there, but not as sharp. And now— now she didn’t want to let it consume her. She wanted to have happy moments, without the guilt that trailed behind it. Slowly but surely, she was beginning to feel something again. A flicker of warmth. An emblem of trust. And it was with him. “Oh my sneeze is loud, out of nowhere too— it’ll probably scare you. Hopefully you’re not driving. Or sleeping.” She laughs again, and it looks good on her. It feels good on her, to laugh again. Still, she drums fingertips on the concrete, and listens again. He had so much to say about the universe, and she couldn’t help but feel small in the grand scheme of things. How much value, was a human life? When she left this world, would she be with her sister again? Was there a veil? Would she find it? Or would they all just disappear into one vast existing? She didn’t like to think about it, if she’s being honest. She’d lived step in step with Death himself, and though he always seemed to spare her, there was a cost to his kindness.