[ There's something very lovely about how he shuts the door, how easy he manages the act. There's no rattling slam, no suggestion of shutting them in rather than shutting the world (and light, likely) out.
(Brom, grinning and hungry-eyed, used to kick the door closed with his heel, leave behind a shoeprint now and then. She hated that. She hated having to clean off the shoeprint in the morning.
And then he stopped shutting the bedroom door at all. Stopped smiling.
Look how miserable Treavor is, but still searching for her. She hates thinking of Brom, but every difference is illuminated so much brighter, every beautiful thing her husband does given so much more import. Like how he closes the door. Like how he doesn't lay his misery on her shoulders, but turns to her for comfort, instead.)
Without him in hand, she turns to settle back into bed, wriggling back into the fading body-heat warmth of the blankets, and thank you very much, stealing her pillow back. Once properly settled, she pops open the aspirin and produces a few. Holds them out to him in hopes that he'll choose the aspirin over the bottle that he is noticeably still clutching. ]
Wallace knows I don't have an artistic bone in my body. Bob Ross is a snitch. Can we claim self-defense?
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(Brom, grinning and hungry-eyed, used to kick the door closed with his heel, leave behind a shoeprint now and then. She hated that. She hated having to clean off the shoeprint in the morning.
And then he stopped shutting the bedroom door at all. Stopped smiling.
Look how miserable Treavor is, but still searching for her. She hates thinking of Brom, but every difference is illuminated so much brighter, every beautiful thing her husband does given so much more import. Like how he closes the door. Like how he doesn't lay his misery on her shoulders, but turns to her for comfort, instead.)
Without him in hand, she turns to settle back into bed, wriggling back into the fading body-heat warmth of the blankets, and thank you very much, stealing her pillow back. Once properly settled, she pops open the aspirin and produces a few. Holds them out to him in hopes that he'll choose the aspirin over the bottle that he is noticeably still clutching. ]
Wallace knows I don't have an artistic bone in my body. Bob Ross is a snitch. Can we claim self-defense?