@heldgirl sent: you really think i could make it? / accepting.
if it was anyone else, she'd think they were joking. maybe even fishing for compliments, if she really wanted to be cynical about it. but it's sunny, which means not only does she entirely mean it, there's an almost unbelievable amount of genuine wonder in the question. it's a near - miracle that they don't reach over to grab her cheeks and shake her until she believes it.
â are you fuckin' kidding me? of course i do. â they don't grab her cheeks, but they do reach for her arm, fingers ghosting down the length of her forearm before they settle loosely by her hand. she taps the side of her palm, thumb brushing lightly across sunny's knuckles. all the while, her eyes never leave hers. â these things are like magic, dude. â and she would know. â i've seen the stuff you've made. seriously, even the really simple stuff looks incredible. i have, like, the most faith in you. â
though their point is made, they don't drop her hand. they don't look away, either, even though she's shining so brightly it almost hurts to look. instead, orla smiles, small and encouraging, and for a moment, the air seems to still. if she wanted, she could ...
but she doesn't. instead, the air wooshes back into movement, like a rush in her ears, and the moment breaks. her relief is almost as palpable as her regret. their smile grows wider, more teasing, despite the sudden tightness in their chest, and they squeeze sunny's hand once before they drop it, reaching up instead to flick at a strand of dark hair curling by her ear. â now press publish on the new posts before i do it for you. people are gonna love it, i promise. â
