candles out

following after agnes, saffron tries to keep her eyes away from the woman's back. but it seems that, in agnes' orbit, saffron has such a hard time looking away. her childhood room hasn't changed since she left it last; guitar in the corner, photos along the walls, the same smell that greats her nose is of an old perfume that she used to use when she was younger. her hand is let go of in exchange for agnes sitting on the bed. saffron doesn't immediately join her. instead, her eyes trail along her surroundings and she tries to remember the shape of herself within the walls.

saffron’s hand in hers is as satisfying as a lock click. agnes has grasped those hands too much and too tightly for it to be special, but it’s in both parts overwhelming and casual. she breathes in, and she can smell the perfume that she remembers saffron as. now, she wants to lean closer to her, inhale the scent on the neck there, and see what has changed. instead, she bites the inside of her cheek and basks herself in the parts of saffron that used to be hers. her best friend. is she still? “   yeah, but,   ”   she trails off. agnes knows she can’t be mad for long.    “   i don’t know. was meeting me today even planned?   ”   maybe she’s being selfish. who is she, compared to clove and her family and the shiny, new career in hollywood?   “   this is overdramatic. sorry.   ”   she dismisses herself. agnes moves closer to saffron. their arms are touching.

for @loveinme & ??? ! plot : INFIDELITY — muse a is in a long-term relationship that everyone around them assumes is solid, until muse b enters the picture. what starts as harmless late-night chats or friendly drinks becomes so much more with stolen kisses, guilt, along with the constant fear of getting caught.

✦ — angsty plot ideas

⊹ ₊ ⁺ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⸻ 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤     :      @loveinme !

her head tilts and her lips part. she likes thinking that she knows what she’s getting into. after all, most about a world-famous hockey player would be on the tabloids, would it not?   “   don’t tell me you killed a man,   ”   she says, playful and saccharine and pleasant. nikolai could say whatever and she doesn’t think she’d care. she likes it. she thinks she likes him.   “   what are they, really? lips are sealed.   ”  

the house bustled with people, her homecoming an excuse for clove to throw a party. her father was here somewhere mingling, talking the ear off his golf buddies and church friends. her mother - long lost to a bottle of pills upstairs. saffron had been on her way back from seeing her, tucking her into bed, when she saw agnes. her breath caught in her throat, a stutter in her step, and then she was turning and finding something stronger than water to drink. she'd found a peach white claw - something she actually found disgusting but couldn't be bothered to look for anything else. she'd drank that down with barely a stop to her swallowing, her heart in her throat and her hands shaky. it had been a long while since they're last been in the same room and saffron could already feel that invisible line that tethered them together. several people had found her already, wished her all the luck in hollywood and made it their best interest to act like they truly cared what she thought or said. it was funny how people changed with the slightest ounce of fame that came with being on tv. saffron had excused herself from the conversation, trying to find clove. her twin was here somewhere - likely doing things that were bad for her. saffron, responsible and begrudgingly loving, always liked to look after her at events where alcohol would be present. but somewhere along the way, agnes had found her way around the party and they were face to face for the first time since saffron had left her orbit the last time. tongue brushing suddenly dry lips, all she could taste in her mouth was bittersweet peach and the longing that usually sat on her tongue when agnes was around. "hi," voice soft, almost like a whisper, it got a bit lost in the noise of the house. she felt exposed here out in the open for everyone to see her reactions to agnes. it was a feeling she always got when they were around others - like her want was transparent. she hated it. it made her feel vulnerable. "wanna go upstairs? catch up a little?" @loveinme

these are the very same walls she grew up in, invited over for sleepovers on weekends and dinners with the smiths on schooldays. agnes isn’t sure when it all starts to feel like grime — when saffron went off to become a movie star, maybe, or she was distracted from the fact that it always has. whatever it is, it feels sticky like honey. like the lipgloss sucked out of her teeth or the thrum in her chest or everything she won’t say to saffron lodged inside her throat. she’s gotten closer to clove in the past year to numb herself from the fact that saffron isn’t a walk away anymore. they’re so different … but clove looks so much like her that it was easy to blur them together, for better or for worse. finally, saffron’s standing in front of her. agnes looks at her with something of passion. love for her best friend for more than half of her life, hate for leaving her stranded and alone for hollywood, jealousy for becoming someone outside of her. it’s something raw and confusing. “ yeah, ” agnes nods, tries to smile. hand makes its way to saffron’s, and she’s guiding her to her childhood bedroom like it’s her own. she sits down on the bed and soaks in the pleasance of her gaze. “ why didn’t you tell me you’d be back? ”