Swordcrossed

by Freya Marske

“Indeed,” said Sofia grimly. “Believe me, there’s nothing romantic about someone who hears the word no and translates it through three books of love poems and his own daydreams so that it means please keep chasing me.”

The pause seemed to stretch on for minutes, while Matti shook with a relief so tangible it was like walking into crashing surf. First it refreshed you, and then your feet were swept away and your mouth filled with salt.

That certainty was held firm by a part of him rooted in the fact that he was loved unreservedly, that he was respected. Matti was coming to realise that this part had been at war, for a very long time, with the part of him that had nothing to do with intellect and everything to do with his parents’ decade-long worry, and with knowing that he would do anything and everything to rescue them from it. That everything he could do, everything he had done, was not enough. Love was a sword with two edges.

Luca paused in his steps and smiled back. The ocean breeze stroked his cheeks again and he thought: Oh.

lololol god bless ficcers turned pro for adhering to the Traditions, like the italicized oh moment :D