1.3 | the art of cupidity ✓

10 | eros

ANOTHER TWO MONTHS COME AND GO, AND RYLIN CARTER FINDS HIMSELF WAKING UP AND PULLING THE SMALLER GIRL'S BODY CLOSER TO PRESS AGAINST HIS, NOSE CONSTANTLY BREATHING IN HER SUNFLOWER SCENT. It's electrifying and crazed all at once, and he realizes that he wants to spend every morning looking at his girlfriend and whispering sweet (but not so sweet) things into her ear.

The had a fight last night about texting and calling (Rylin's terrible at it, and so is Sora), so they were both irritated at the other with the lack thereof, but he hoped that they'd be fine with the rising of a new day. And when the sun had reached its glorious peak, Sora blinked open sleepily and hugged him closer.

Yeah, Rylin thinks secretly. Yeah, we'll be okay.

"I still hate you," Sora whispers against his chest, fingertips soft as he brushes through her colored hair.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, pulse escalating and spiraling out of this universe like a shooting star. "I love you too, pretty girl."

And he does.

***

Adrian Chalmetón's parties are something of a legend (as stated before), and Sora cocks her head at the birthday party invitation at the hottest club in the text he'd sent her the night before. Maybe it's a way of sending his gratitude even though she should honestly be the one thanking him—he's the one that introduced her to Rylin Carter, after all.

She texts him back and says she can't make it (she just doesn't feel like going), and they decide to catch up at Sue's Corner during her shift. Sora's ankle is just about to finish its healing process, and sometimes when she gets unbearably frustrated, she'll yell at her leg and beg it to hurry up. Usually while she's working, her boyfriend will read something with a long limb casually bent and the other dangling over the cushion to wait for her, but she remembers that he's celebrating his neighbor's birthday at a new karaoke bar (Rylin must hate it there).

Across the counter, the blond casually flips through the menu and rests his elbow on a half-ripped napkin. Even on his birthday, Sora thinks he looks uncharacteristically blue, and so she smacks a strawberry shake down right in front of him and grins wickedly as he jolts.

"Happy birthday, Chalmetón," Sora remarks, arching a single brow up as he shakes his head and laughs loosely, mumbling something in the foreign language that's impossible for her to understand. "It's on the house."

Adrian hands her the menu. "You and Rylin are demons sent from hell," he mutters, "but thanks, Sora."

She doesn't really know why, but she likes the way that sentence sounds.

"Still leaving Chase in the dark?" Sora asks, adjusting her white apron around her waist so it'll stay up. She's lost a bit of weight from the lack of appetite she's had recently (a symptom of the painkillers) and Sora often finds comfort when Rylin yells at her to eat the goddamn food he makes her—he doesn't express his emotions like she does, but it's nice to know that she's the only one who can draw it out of him.

The boy sighs and bites down on his bottom lip, worrying it anxiously between his teeth. "Don't feel like talking about it right now," he mutters in defeat, and Sora knows she should stop pushing—she knows this, and yet doesn't particularly care.

"You know," the waitress continues, "you'll lose her if you don't do something, and then she'll be in someone else's arms before you can blink. And who knows?" Sora wipes down a dish and turns her attention to the blond. "I might not be around to help you anymore."

"You met Rylin because of me."

Sora snorts. "Are you going to keep hanging that over my head?"

A pause. "Probably."