draconian: <user name=beticons site=insanejournal.com> (you aren't the worst thing ever.)
"ᴄʟᴀʏ" ([personal profile] draconian) wrote in [community profile] epcot 2022-11-13 07:15 pm (UTC)

[ It’s going to be a long game if it continues like this: trying to figure her out is harder than Clay ever expected. He fully expected an excuse, she always had one. He fully expected her to lie down with her back to him- he would tentatively put an arm around her to keep it in a semblance of post-second or -third date bedroom pillow talk.

Instead, she stays. She turns. She’s facing him. Clay smells the vague sea washed salt of her scent, and he breathes it gratefully. She lies on his maroon sheets, on his mattress, and puts her arms to him- not without hesitation- but on her own terms, nonetheless.

The glow of the alarm clock is now casting her face into shadow, making a hazy blue follow around her blond hair mussed from sleep and tumbling around.

He cups her face, thumb pushing a loose few hairs to her ear. There’s no expression to find in this lighting, but he imagines through her pauses in decision making: she’s unsure, nervous, and she needed to know she’s holding cards. He knows enough to guess that much, even if he has no idea what’s she’s thinking or going to do next. ]


I’m happy you’re here.

[ A pause and he moves his pillow-propped head toward hers a fraction. ]

…I’m glad you stayed.

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