#papaflynn

lark's living room spoke of her single status clearly: a certified bachelorette pad. though it was decently sized, a distinct lack of stuff defined the space as bigger than most. a wide dark-brown couch she'd found secondhand online took up most of the center. it sat opposite a beautiful walnut book case that was crammed full of spiky, bright plants she'd named after different rockstars ( janis was looking a little wilted, she thought to herself absently ). the entire place smelled of frankincense and chili sauce, and when the light spilled in just right, it lit everything up inside with its golden glow. it was the first place she'd ever had that lark could call truly her own, and she loved it for that, despite the leaky faucets and the ugly water stain on the ceiling.

and when callum often came over, she felt proud to have him there. proud to sit among her things and have a friend who could enjoy them with her. a friend she could sit next to and watch movies with. a friend she was honestly pretty certain had been her lover in a past life. ❝ so, I was thinking. I know you weren't really feeling the conjuring when I brought it up last week. if you're not about watching it still, I had another idea for tonight. I brought my cards home with me –– I could read your fortune. ❞ lark smirked, holding the tarot cards up. ❝ aren't you a little curious what the future holds? ❞