[ stop worrying, he says, but he might as well tell her to stop breathing. worrying is second-nature for her, for someone who has had to second-guess everything she says or does so as to avoid all the wrong kind of attention.
for her, spanish is a double-edged sword. on her tongue, in her ears, the language represents almost everything she has come to love and hold dear. it is her home, her family, her safety. but so too is it the reason she keeps her head down so low among strangers, the reason she speaks as quietly as she does. spanish has carved itself so much on her tongue that even in speaking english, traces of it remain. what he's found he likes so much is an unfortunate beacon for all the things she does not want seen. true, in her native language she is more free. but freedom, like everything else, comes with a price.
say something else. what else is there to say? (so much, she realizes then. there's so much more to say, but her mind doesn't know where to begin.)
(her eyes, though. her eyes begin where glass meets lip, at the heat where their hands touch. her eyes follow the curve of his lips where they encourage โ taunt โ her, where whiskey leaves them glistening like a spotlight. when he swallows, she swallows too, but unlike him some of her nerves remain.)
there's still so many things about her new situation she doesn't completely comprehend, but she'll take her own precautions where she can, where it seems like he's forgotten them. she lifts her free hand to trace over the shell of his ear โ a gesture that would look entirely intimate, for eyes not trained to notice how a finger gently digs out a miniature earpiece. her lips lean in where her fingers lead, and what she says next is a secret, one she's taking care to keep as one for now. ]
No sรฉ si me da mรกs miedo necesitarte o desearte.
[ she withdraws as smoothly as she neared, his earpiece slipped back in before her hand falls back down to her side. the whiskey bottle held between them has grown light since it arrived, and as the last of her courage vibrates off of her, she finishes it off in two quick swigs. ]
no subject
for her, spanish is a double-edged sword. on her tongue, in her ears, the language represents almost everything she has come to love and hold dear. it is her home, her family, her safety. but so too is it the reason she keeps her head down so low among strangers, the reason she speaks as quietly as she does. spanish has carved itself so much on her tongue that even in speaking english, traces of it remain. what he's found he likes so much is an unfortunate beacon for all the things she does not want seen. true, in her native language she is more free. but freedom, like everything else, comes with a price.
say something else. what else is there to say? (so much, she realizes then. there's so much more to say, but her mind doesn't know where to begin.)
(her eyes, though. her eyes begin where glass meets lip, at the heat where their hands touch. her eyes follow the curve of his lips where they encourage โ taunt โ her, where whiskey leaves them glistening like a spotlight. when he swallows, she swallows too, but unlike him some of her nerves remain.)
there's still so many things about her new situation she doesn't completely comprehend, but she'll take her own precautions where she can, where it seems like he's forgotten them. she lifts her free hand to trace over the shell of his ear โ a gesture that would look entirely intimate, for eyes not trained to notice how a finger gently digs out a miniature earpiece. her lips lean in where her fingers lead, and what she says next is a secret, one she's taking care to keep as one for now. ]
No sรฉ si me da mรกs miedo necesitarte o desearte.
[ she withdraws as smoothly as she neared, his earpiece slipped back in before her hand falls back down to her side. the whiskey bottle held between them has grown light since it arrived, and as the last of her courage vibrates off of her, she finishes it off in two quick swigs. ]