For the writing asks
Gimme some angst (please) (<- thatβs there to show how politely I mean that)
I canβt even describe how some good angst makes me feel I just know that I love it
Ooooo I was just brainstorming an idea (usually requests are hard) so I hope you don't mind if I just use that
"So anything new that I should be warned about?" Atlas asked, his tone uncertain.
Maybe he was afraid to breach the topic of his absence. Elora wasn't certain. She didn't meet his eyes as she shrugged and replied dismissively.
"Nothing of immediate urgency."
"Oh... that's good, at least." His awkwardness could've been felt a mile away, and Elora hated it. Talking to him had always felt natural and easy. What was going on?
After a few beats of unbearable silence, he asked, "Are you mad at me?"
She finally met his worried gaze with nothing but astonishment. "Am I... mad at you?" she repeated, her words carrying all the bitterness she had told herself she had been hiding.
"I have every right to." She said at last, pointedly making it clear he wasn't completely forgiven.
"I know." He said.
"You shouldn't have left."
"I know."
"Then why did you?" Tears were beginning to form at that point. Angry, frustrated tears mixed with ones of loneliness and absolute agony.
Oh, good, now she was crying. As if she needed to be more of a mess.
He was the one avoiding eye contact now. "I had to."
"No you didn't," the statement came out almost as a laugh. Why she was laughing in such a state, she didn't know. "You know you didn't."
"And you know I couldn't stay." His tone was almost pleading, "Flint, please, I don't expect you to forgive me, but try, if only for your sake, to understand. Because I know you can. I had to get away I... I couldn't take it."
"And you think I can!?" The tears spilled over and he stepped closer, with his hand reaching for her face as to wipe them away.
The motion was so familiarβ so reminiscent of the days when nothing had been wrong, she stepped away before she could give in to his attempt at comfort.
The petty, resentful part of her soul told her that he should see her cry. He deserved to see how much he had hurt her. And he deserved to not be able to do anything about it.
She sniffed and wiped away her tears herself, desperately trying put all her pieces back together.
A beat of silence. A moment that seemed to have lasted ages. She debated herself on wether or not to say what she was really thinking.
"I... I would've gone with you." She said, looking anywhere but at him. "If you had just said the word. And not knowing where I was or where we were going wouldn't have mattered. Because you'd be there."
"You're needed here."
"And so are you. By me. By our friends." She looked at him as her pain dissolved into bafflement, "Does that mean nothing to you?"
