Bad Sun

[pride_of_kiwi]

WHO: Emi and John
WHEN: October 24th, evening
WHERE: The Flat
WHAT: Her flightless Kiwi's come home.
RATING: Fluffier than a goddamn pile of Pomeranian.

Comments

[salylimon]

"So I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache."Perhaps, given all that had happened in the last few months and the last few days, curling up on the sofa (or rather, the nest she had created in the living room) to read a worn copy of Pablo Neruda's sonnets hadn't been the best of ideas. But Emi was tired. Confused. Heartbroken

[pride_of_kiwi]

As much as he had been expecting a 'dramatic tearful reunion', he truly had not calculated just how strongly having his friend- his dear, dear friend- wrapped in his arms would affect him.

'Eyeball sweating', Logan had called it. John was on the verge of sweating heaps then.

He heaved a sigh, hunched over, shut his eyes and offered in all the cheer he could muster, "S'good to be back. But y'know- I'm surprised y'didn't break out the machete for all the shit I put ya through."

[salylimon]

"Didn't want to go to my room," Emi mumbled against his chest, almost as if that cryptic answer would be enough to properly explain to John just how much walking down that hallway affected her. Such sentiments were petty, probably, but the small woman couldn't find herself to care as she tightened her hold around him, fingers clinging to the back of his shirt.

She felt like a child clinging to their parent after a bad nightmare, but even that comparison wasn't enough for her to pull away just yet. Not as she attempted to control the slight trembling that now plagued her. Swallowing, Emi managed to loosen her hold somewhat as she pulled back, forehead resting against John's chest as she just stood there, teary eyes staring at the floor beneath them.

"D-Do you need help bringing your things inside?" She finally asked, finding some comfort in the steady rise and fall of John's chest and the familiar warmth of his embrace.

[pride_of_kiwi]

A large palm settled on her head, patting gently a few times as language of any sort tangled on his tongue. There was a meaningful flourish of an arm toward the suitcases, boxes, bags he'd been balancing now splayed carelessly across the floor where they had landed.

"Think I've got that covered."

For lack of any more insightful commentary, he hummed a few bars of an old drinking song before reluctantly breaking their eternity of an embrace.

"Got some curbside in there somewhere. How d'y'feel about curry? Unless y'already ate. M'not too hungry m'self and- Strewth, Emi, let's just watch a goddamn flick n' caterwaul ourselves to sleep."

He couldn't help it- John sniffled. Once.