cloudymoth
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Summary
“Sorry. Do you want me to light that?” He says, stepping towards her, back against the sun, his flaxen hair warm with the glow. He holds a steel flip lighter in his broad palm, and she thinks it looks tiny in his hand, a little heirloom, from a father or grandfather, maybe.
She leans into him wordlessly, cigarette between her lips. He lights it, and then reaches for one of his own.
(Two people who should never be together find themselves intrinsically linked, unable to escape their destiny as it circles them.)
Series
- Part 1 of Pistols and Peonies
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- 7,289
- Works:
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