[P] you're my rain [fall]

[Elena]

Elena

let us live like flowers
drenched in sun

S

he should not be doing this to him, but she does it all the same.She had told another she loved him, had let another touch her, had let another hold her. And still she is here, with words she should not tell him on her tongue because Elena will never change and her heart rules her. When her heart tugs, when it pulls, Elena follows, when it might better to just let that rope drop and maybe let her mind takeover.

When Noctura returned with his response, Elena would never deny the way her heart had jumped, leapt, sang. There crossed a thought too quiet that told her this idea she had, these feelings that burrow, were wrong, unfair, but Elena, she does it all the same.

She had traced his handwriting like a girl who wasn't in love, had imagined what it would be like seeing him like a girl who’s lips had not been kissed. And Elena walked to Delumine, to a man of stars and dreams, like there was not another man waiting in shadows to hold her in Denocte. Elena loves to punish herself, but she loves to create things to punish herself for even more.

He holds her and everything else is forgotten because none of it matters, not anymore. He is strength and wisdom and joy. Please don’t let me go, please don’t let me go,’ she chants less like a mantra and more like a prayer. It feels so good, but it is too fleeting, always too fleeting. But Elena knows that he is starlight, she knows she cannot hold him forever. She cradles her head underneath his strong jaw (wishing for a fraction, his lips would touch hers) and he buries himself in her blonde mane. What does he place there? A wish? A hope? Dreams seem fitting. Later, when Elena braids her hair, she will find it tucked within the blonde strands. But the problem with her heart in too many places at once, Elena will not remember who it was who planted such a secret.

He speaks and she feels relief blooming in her chest. He missed her. He missed her. Oh, he missed her. Elena smiles a little wider. She watches his lips, they are so perfect and she wonders in an instant why she has not dreamed of them more. “It's been a while.” Longer than it felt like. Dreams didn't count. “Azrael,” she utters his name like a plea. “Thank you, for coming,” she says, and he would never know how much it meant to see him.

“I would expect nothing less of such fickle nighttime companions,” she says pulling back slightly to look up at him. She listens to his words of dreams and Elena’s heart wrenches in her chest. The only dream she had was of Lilli, Lilli and the entire world ending.

“You did?” She asks him and would blush if she could. The golden girl ducks her head slightly. “I would,” she says. She would believe him, even if she cannot see herself in the way he sees her. “I would believe you, I just might ask you why,” she says coyly, before she bumps his shoulder lightly. “But I would also tell you that you didn't have to tell me.” She tells herself she doesn't know why he would. Tells herself she doesn't know, because it hurts too much, there is too much guilt to think otherwise.

She follows him, looking at the decorations, the flower crown one made, the bracelet of vines another made, and paintings all across the garden, assembled by brushes and inspiration. Azrael picks up the charcoal and Elena settles herself close to him. “What are you drawing?” She asks, watching the movement of the charcoal across the paper. And then she turns from him, picks up a tiny knife and tiny piece of wood. “I’m going to make something for you.” She says and turns away further. “It’s a surprise.”

code by rallidae
picture by cannon
@Azrael