* ৲ ‘ 𝐘𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐘 . ’ the thought of mimosas at brunch is an ostensibly overdone image roman knows makes him an absolute stereotype of the wealthy and elite . and yet there he lounges , sipping delicately on the only excuse he really has to be day drinking in public before noon , calloused fingertips fidgeting against the stem of the glass . he knows esmé’s had it to her peak with his antics this week ; the grimace of unfiltered disappointment permeates his brain each time his eyes shut for even the most fleeting of moments . and yet , she agrees to this meal with him , a lowkey diner nestled in the heart of auckland’s unsuspecting downtown , away from the prying eyes of strangers and the luxe group alike . he hates this , their liminal phase of awkwardness , knowing her feelings for him teeter between resentment and annoyance just as much as his teeter between remorse and regret . her silence carves into him , forcing him to chew at the soft flesh of his bottom lip as he tries to get something , anything , out of her that isn’t a glare .
‘ 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐋𝐘 dropping my location on snapchat so we can have kiwi fans come join us —- ’ honeyed hues lift to meet hers , eyebrows arched as he seeks some semblance of validation from her perfectly composed stoic gaze . he prods on , thumbing the sticky menu corner by corner to give his nervous free hand something else to do . ‘ and maybe then i’d have someone who will actually talk to me , yeah ? ’ the sigh that escapes his lips is borderline desperate , punctuating the clench of his jaw from beneath milky skin . ‘ that’s supposed to be a joke , i’m really about to go fucking crazy if i don’t get some social interaction soon . please , ’ he pleads , eyes soft and voice dipping , seeking something from the figure he’d otherwise take the utmost of comfort in , ‘ you know the silent treatment is killing me . ’
* ৲ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ﹕ @glamourfm !
