[ The chip bounces off his temple, lands somewhere in the sheets that he's mussed up, and Jake laughs. It's a clean sound. A loud sound, with teeth and real amusement. He smiles at her and there's a spark of spearmint-green in it, gum snapped between the molars of a mouth that always needs to be occupied. Had been the same back then, too, trying to give up smoking. Folded, not even a few months later. A pack of Marlboro reds, classic American-flavored bullshit, now sitting open on her bedside table, right next to her dying roses. No ashtray in sight.
One of two habits Jake Seresin never could quite kick.
Lightly, the book he's reading falls forward, landing flat on his chest with a dull noise. Hardbound, embossed, the title clear now in both English and Russian: The Master and the Margarita. Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once. Coup de fucking foudre. ]
Missed you too, Ani.
[ Always Ani, behind closed doors, as if he never gave up the right to say it. Stay with me, Ani. I love you, Ani. Marry me, Ani. Jake raises his hands in a gesture of surrender like it doesn't wear like a joke over him, all languid ease as he exhales a laugh, even with the threat of another thing thrown. Shakes his head as he straightens up against the headboard, but doesn't move to get out of her bed.
Finders keepers. Oldest rule in the book. He folds his fingers neatly together, patiently, and stares at her instead. His gaze travels from head to toe, then cuts to the fourth finger of her left hand. A weathervane that tells him the season, whether a diamond sits there or not. ]
You look good.
[ It come out plain. Happy. Conversational, as if this is all part of their routine, as he looks back into her face. ]
no subject
One of two habits Jake Seresin never could quite kick.
Lightly, the book he's reading falls forward, landing flat on his chest with a dull noise. Hardbound, embossed, the title clear now in both English and Russian: The Master and the Margarita. Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once. Coup de fucking foudre. ]
Missed you too, Ani.
[ Always Ani, behind closed doors, as if he never gave up the right to say it. Stay with me, Ani. I love you, Ani. Marry me, Ani. Jake raises his hands in a gesture of surrender like it doesn't wear like a joke over him, all languid ease as he exhales a laugh, even with the threat of another thing thrown. Shakes his head as he straightens up against the headboard, but doesn't move to get out of her bed.
Finders keepers. Oldest rule in the book. He folds his fingers neatly together, patiently, and stares at her instead. His gaze travels from head to toe, then cuts to the fourth finger of her left hand. A weathervane that tells him the season, whether a diamond sits there or not. ]
You look good.
[ It come out plain. Happy. Conversational, as if this is all part of their routine, as he looks back into her face. ]
I like your robe.