sweet tea in the summer

BLOGROLL  ⸻  @unlockedforyou , @bruisedmolars , @bottlebymybed

They huffed a laugh at the dry tone of his voice, and brought their joined hands to their cheek, smiling. “Yeah, you sure can accept it. You don’t gotta act like comfort’s a trap. Not with me – I ain’t keepin’ score.” There was a certain level of understanding between them, of two people who trusted each other with parts of themselves that others might not see, and Luna could let him play it off, but she felt sentimental. “You don’t dump, you talk. Big difference.” She was caught up in the unguarded laughter and joined him, pushing at his shoulder. “You dork.” The aspect in which they differed the most may have come from their stances on dating. Whereas Luke may have thought that emotions were too much, all Luna wanted was to throw herself into the fire. She wanted to be loved. Was that so bad? Heat bloomed across her cheekbones,  and she dropped her eyes.  “That’s sweet,” they laughed, and they practically had to force themselves to look back up at him. “Thanks, Luke. His hand is warm and steady on their shoulder, and they cover it with theirs, squeezing three times. “For what it’s worth, if you were a pretty girl, I’d probably be unbearable about you, too. Can you imagine it? I’d be worse than I already am.” A beat. “And if I’m such a catch, you better start hypin’ me up in public. I expect glowing testimonials. Five stars. No notes.”

Leave it to Lunara Roth to fall in love with someone already claimed by the grave. When she was little, she imagined a thousand futures for herself – cities with skylines that glittered, lovers with warm hands and steady heartbeats, a life that felt bright and deliberate. This had never been one of them. Not this: loving someone whose pulse was a memory. But the supernatural had never been a bedtime story in the Roth house. It was lineage. It was legacy. The matriarch of the family was a witch, and even though Luna hadn’t inherited the craft in any visible way, it still clung to her – threaded through her marrow, wrapped around her ribs like something woven there on purpose. Magic did not skip her. It simply settled quieter. Maybe that was why loving Rainie didn’t feel impossible. Just unbearable. They had learned, slowly, the language of flinches. The bitten lip. The way Rainie’s shoulders would go tight, just barely, when Luna’s fingers brushed hers. The soft, stifled breath like contact cost something neither of them wanted to name. It had taken time, but Luna pieced it together: touch hurt. So they stopped reaching. They began to live in inches instead of closeness. Luna’s hands hovered where they wanted to land. She trained herself not to close the distance. Not to be selfish. Not to ask for something that caused pain. But love is greedy. It kept tugging them forward anyway. Blue eyes met blue, and Luna felt her own fill before she could stop them. The world seemed to quiet around that gaze, like it was holding its breath with her. “It doesn’t have to end,” she says, voice thinner than she intends. Their fingers twist in the hem of their sweater, grounding themselves against the tremor threatening to spill out. There’s something raw beneath her words – something she rarely lets anyone see. A willingness. A recklnessness. The kind of devotion that could ruin her. “I’d do anythin’,” she whispers, stepping half an inch closer despite herself. “To stay with you. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

"Hey, um, Teddy?" Their hands worried at the sleeves of their sweater, and they couldn't meet his gaze. "Can you, um, can you look at something with me?"