#( LISTEN U GET MOBILE BC IM AT A COMMUNION )

[clochanamarc]

I 👏 WANT 👏 THE 👏 K 👏

she notices it more now than ever before. the rising number of events that simply don't make sense. earthquakes ricocheting through the expanse of eurasia and africa. storms that rip apart concrete buildings and spit the debris around canada and north america. floods and landslides swallowing acres in south america. she feels that crackle in the air, the way the air seems tense, as though the very universe itself is begging for someone to take notice. and yet, nobody does. no reporter nor renowned scientist steps up to reveal some terrifying truth behind these events. nobody even seems to recognize these things are happening at all.

and then, one day, trent picks up the phone. a retired footballer residing in texas wants to contribute to his new book. and in a characteristically observant way, trent noticed that aisling's facial expressions have a tendency to shift whenever that state is mentioned.

a thing that only trent crimm can notice. but still, she accepts the invitation.

and now, they're in texas, at the heart of the most torrential rainstorm they've ever seen this side of 1973. and trent is sprinting to his old vintage cadillac, and she thinks she was following him, until the damn rain stopped. not gradually. not even in the swiftly conclusive way that rain sometimes has a mind to do. but entirely and in the blink of an eye. like the heavens just swung the door shut as fast as they were opened. a forked branch of lightning brightens the sky. and the moment it touches a tree, splitting it clean in two, a fresh burst of rain surges from the divided trunk, drenching her once again.

a door. THE door. the same kind that brought her into lee's world, and then into the angels' world, and the very same kind that have been irrevocably sealed eight months ago. she doesn't waste time with thinking. no. this time, she pulls the zip of her jacket up to her throat. and while trent stares on in wonder, she sprints into the halved tree, and...

and he's there! soaked! rain cascading over his leather sleeves, face bewildered, both of them saturated and gasping and she's not sure if she's ever known a beauty quite like him, not in her world.

so is it any wonder that her hands reach up, feet arched, head tipped, and brings her lips to his like she's dying of thirst and he's the only water worth drinking? that her thumbs trace over his cheekbones, capturing every feature and detail, rain cold and lungs burning and yet, she could never imagine being anywhere else. anywhere other than by the side of a man who can inspire such impossible things and immeasurable feelings, just by being there.