#another warmup

Nona loves you <3 (og image under the cut)

You blink at her, at the harsh, clipped tone that tells you this is a question she’d been ruminating on for hours before she finally allowed it past her lips. It’s almost accusatory, and not uncharacteristic.

“How is what enough?” you finally ask, after a few seconds trying to decipher it, and she purses her lips. Her mind has always worked much more quickly than yours, with connections and jumps that you struggle to keep up with—it is an invaluable skill in her line of work—but she sometimes forgets that not everyone can follow her thought processes.

(You’ve become more adept at it, however, your need for explanations lessening each day you spend with her.)

Silence stretches out for a while longer, but then she sighs, and when she speaks again her voice has gained a different sort of edge. “This. Us. How is it enough for you? Don’t you want more time? More… everything?” She speaks quickly, spitting out the words, and she doesn’t look at you. “It makes no sense.”

It makes no sense. The ultimate indictment, when coming from her mouth.

Everything has to make sense, quantifiable and quantified—perhaps because she herself, her very existence doesn’t. And this thing that you have, fragile as it is, flies in the face of everything you’ve ever known about the world. She has never been able to wrap her mind around it, and if you’re being honest, some days you struggle, too. You struggle with the instinctive need to recoil every time the magic sparks from her, when your own withdraws far within you. With the feeling of walking out of step with the world.

Most of you, though—most of you finds it thrilling. You always knew there had to be more to your life than the path outlined and walked a million times, than the connections meant to be made. She has shown you something you weren’t supposed to have.

So you smile at her, and you wrap your fingers around her wrist, carefully, tenderly. She tenses, as do you, for a fraction of a second. Touching her always feels like this. But both of you relax once the instinct passes.

🔥.

bois I haven’t picked up a pen in WEEKS I gotta ge back on track