!INBOX // EUDIO.

[medals]

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[medals]

[There it is: an out, practically gift wrapped. A solution, too; a way to never have to feel like this again. The answer should be so easy to make. But he's not thinking right and neither is she. She's scared and miserable and he's angry and miserable too. So she cups his face with her hands and smooths her thumbs over his cheeks. ]

Ask me when we're feeling better.

[because he might not want it, then. But maybe not.]

[broil]

[He doesn't hesitate to bring his hand up and wrap his fingers around hers. Petre's gaze is still determined and slightly vulnerable, as if searching for an answer in her eyes before the question is even placed.]

Would you?

[medals]

[If not for the out of place vulnerability on his face, she'd push him to let it go. Instead she kisses his forehead again, the touch gentle and intended to be comforting. ]

You think you could live with me?

[broil]

[His answer comes without hesitation, but he is hurt. This is a conversation they should be having when he's feeling better.]

Yeah. I wouldn't leave you.

[medals]

Mmm.

[And another kiss to his forehead to punctuate that small noise. She shifts to settle back down with her head on his shoulder, arms sneaking under his own to hold him around the middle. ]

What do we do now?

[broil]

Dunno. Get stupid drunk.

[he's never had to mourn any friendships before.]

[medals]

Perfect.

[''''''''friendship''''''''''']

[broil]

[and then they got super fucking drunk and probably had a lot of sad sex]