2–slight berries

The smell of smoke had long since been replaced as a softer cool melted into their flat coming from the parted sliding door.

Her scent thrilled his nostrils with a gentleness he was fond of as he gingerly raked his fingers up and down her spine, his hand buried beneath the tee-shirt she remained wearing, which barely covered her softly browned skin as the sunlight bathed their flat eagerly in a softer hue of light, a comfortable silence intertwined between them both.

Her back was to him, as she sat against his lap, resting close enough for him to be soaking in her gentle yet sweet scent, making whatever was in the air around them nestled itself closer to his chest, straight through his warm ivory tinged skin. The outside was careful as it greeted them once in a while with a hum and murmur but was so much easier to ignore, and with his wife that close, he felt he could barely be conscious of anything else, even himself.

Those thick and close to rough locks of hers, which were curled along the edges, remained too ticklish to his skin as he rested his chin against the top of her head quite carefully, leaning forward with ease. With the swiftness of his long fingers, which pressed firmly into the cold stainless steel, he worked his fork and knife, cutting gently into his share of flapjacks.

Her soft hand reached for his but then hesitated before she led her hand again and clasped it over his, stopping him before he could bring the piece of fruit, which was dripping with syrup and strawberry sauce, to his plump lips, making him wrap his long arm right around her waist easily. He carefully placed the fork and knife down as he helped her sit properly and maybe comfortably, or at least so that she was turned toward him fully, just so he could see her face. The tee–shirt she was wearing had risen a bit and exposed almost half of her lower body, and skin, as the warmth of her body enveloped them both.

She placed her palm right against the side of his face before she bit her lip and tossed her eyes down to her lap–he felt his stomach drop. If he had felt a rush then now it had just deflated, forcing him to unwillingly acknowledge that she was about to drag ‘it’ out again.

He swallowed, chewing on his lower lip, his narrow nostrils gently flaring, on their own, whilst he attempted to stay as enthusiastic as he could without getting carried away, heart almost beating close to his throat.

He could practically hear it as if it was put close to his round thudding close to his ears.

“Is it about. . .our honeymoon, again?” he lowered his voice.

The tips of her fingers were almost chilly as compared to the rest of her body, even her palms, as she cupped his face in her hands with care, something soft dancing in her brown eyes in the sort of fragile he couldn't presume harmless even if he wished to.

Her plumpy lips parted, but only gifted him with a sigh as her shoulders slumped a bit heavily. The room stifled and became quite spacious before his very eyes as a heavy layer of ice hung just above their heads. He had no choice, he was aware of this, he had to be the one to say something and possibly bring the evil to their table.

Everything felt a bit too chilly as he swallowed, trying to shove the slight lump that had just formed at the back of his throat down, uncomfortably.

He licked his dry and now bloodless rose-colored lips, letting out a sigh, with his arm securely snaked around her agreeing waist. “You think I'm being unfair, true?”

Her brown eyes were softer than his jet ones.

“I just don't fully understand. . .just why we can't-she paused just so she could let out a sigh-go,” she finally said, her small hands secured gently upon his broad shoulders as she looked right at him.

“I thought we had spoken about this,” he said, incapable of keeping his eyes as glued to hers as hers were to his and of course his bounced around as he avoided meeting her soft eyes.

Her eyes were an even softer light brown. “Is this about my dad? Because if it–”

“You think I have a problem with your father?” He knitted his brows together tightly.

He unhooked his arm from around her waist.

“You don't. . .could you please listen, babe?” she said, her soft face slightly dropping as a frown captured her face carefully.

“You think this is about your dad?”

“No, that's not what I'm saying, okay?” she said, shaking her head slightly.

“I thought we both had agreed we'd save f-”

“You just said we weren't going, actually,” she said, brown eyes practically, watery as they softened to the point that he found himself turning away from them. “I had no real say in it if I remember correctly.”

He felt something cruel stomp its way into their flat, reaching for his spinal cord and settling coldly, before it cruelly went to snake itself around his throat, making the words stiffen somewhere down his throat.

He wished for words, but his mouth and throat felt so dry that he felt the soft comfort that had clothed his skin had left him.

The air stank so heavily of syrup.

Her pretty brown eyes couldn't leave his despite how he urged for his own to just flee. Their softness sort of stitched him in place, he felt, and just as the feeling which had gouged itself unto his stomach, he sat there drowning in her scent.

“I didn't mean to,” he lowered his eyes.

He found his thoughts too fast as his palms practically drowned in sweat at the mention of this.

“Theo, I rea–”

“Is it because it's not your money that's paying for it?” she cut in.

“I'm not that shallow,” he could only let out.

“Babe, I'm not. . .you're not the bad guy here, okay? I'm just. . .just want to understand. . .I mean get the fact that you don't want the adults to help and-”

“Adults? What bloody are we?” he asked.

She tugged at his left cheek, which colored a deep tinge of a much softer tone of rose, playfully. “You know what I mean, silly.”

“I'm the one who persuaded you to marry me, yeah?” he said, shutting his left eye as he craned his neck to the side reaching for the back of his neck.

“Persuaded?”

He rested his lips against her forehead tenderly. “You know what I'm trying to say.”

“You want to pay for it yourself,” she sighed, “I get it.”

“I just want to do this for you, just this once,” he said, chin rested against the top of her head of slightly rough locks, carefully. “We share everything else equally, true?”

“Okay, I hear you,” she sighed