🔷️ (SUFFER)
🔷️ - tracing shapes on my muse’s skin
Escaping Verona for a weekend was easier said than done. But, when Tomas appeared outside of her apartment with promises of the Pesaro sun on her face and the sand beneath her feet she couldn’t resist. He barely gave her a moment to agree before rushing into the apartment, grabbing onto her hand to pack a bag for her. Tomas was a hurricane, having already decided what exactly she needed and simply throwing it in the closest bag he could find.
Their escape from the city is filled with genuine laughter from both of them, no longer strained from the tension that seems to only exist within the city walls. They spend the morning on the beach, stretched out on a towel with a picnic basket at the edge of the towel and an umbrella to shield their eyes. Her fingers drag along his arm, connecting one freckle to another and pointedly ignores any scars of her own making. The history between the two will soon be written over with memories that are not filled with pain or agony, but instead of tender happiness. She’ll make sure of it if it’s the last thing she does.
“Grazie, Tomas.” She turns onto her side to face the man she’s sharing a towel with. “You never cease to know when I need you most.”
He faces her, thousand-watt smile plastered on his face as always. His own hand covers hers that continues to draws constellations on his skin. “Isn’t that what friends are for, Pan?”
He was right, of course. And yet, she didn’t believe him. Not when the memories she so desperately wants to erase still burn in her mind. Maybe one day she’ll believe the words when they fall from his mouth again.
