#(posted 4 that one person in the bloomic server)

[ilycove]

And here he is again.

Toasty’s grip on your shoulders tightens, hugging the air out of your lungs. His fingertips dig into your skin, indenting a mark onto you. His face rests on your collarbones, burying himself beneath your bones.

They feel your hands in their hair, undoing the braid you had put in earlier in the morning and gently scratching his scalp, combing through the waves the braid had left. They let out a sigh and squeeze your waist.

A meek voice claws its way through, the vibrations from his mouth sending shockwaves through your neck. “Do you have to leave?”

Soft laughter escapes the bine of your throat, pressing a kiss to his ear. “I can’t just stay here, darling. I have to go home eventually,” your hand cups his cheek and lifts it away from your neck, swiping your thumb over his cheekbones. “I’ll be back soon. Maybe. Hopefully.”

You fix their glasses and caress their hair, messy from being attached to you for so long. They looked gorgeous even when they were a mess. A domestic smile creeps out from your teeth.

And it feels like he yearns for you. He wants more of you even when you’re in front of him, when you’re still in his arms and you don’t have to leave at this very moment. He wants your dreary mondays and your secrets. He wants everything. He wants nothing. He just wants you.

You start to pull away from their embrace, but a tug on your hand stops you. “Don’t go.”

“What? Toasty, you know I can’t just–”

“–But that’s the thing, you can. We can- I can make room at my place. You don’t have to leave.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached up to brush hair away from your face, his eyes swirling with desperation. “Please?”

A chuckle comes from the depths of your heart, a sorrowful smile stitching across your mouth. “I still have a job. And clothes back home. And literally, like, everything I own.”

They shrug, traveling their hand upwards to grab your forearm. “I can ship everything here. And who says you have to send in your two weeks? Just, disappear off of the Earth with me.”

Your laughter grew louder, an honest sounding melody fluttering from your chest. You look back at the plane you have to board, and suddenly the butterflies in your stomach turned to moths. You rub your thumb over Toasty’s cheek again, a bittersweet taste coating your tongue. “Darl, I have to go home. I’ll be back soon, I swear it.”

His fingertips dance further up your body and hold your cheeks, an unreadable expression on his face. “You swear it?”

“I swear it,” you repeat as you kiss his palms softly, pulling further and further away from him as you grab your bags. “This isn’t a goodbye. I’ll see you soon, my love. I’ll call you and bug you about the potential baby that is on the plane and complain about it for hours.”

“Oh, but of course,” They roll their eyes affectionately and lean towards you again, pressing a kiss on your temple. They whisper against your skin, “I’ll see you soon.”

Toasty doesn’t like this part. He doesn’t like watching you go. He doesn’t like the pit in his stomach, or how his eyes are watering, or how he doesn’t get to hold you anymore, or how he finally understand that this; this is what solitude is.

All’s well that ends well, they suppose. It’ll be alright. They’ll convince you to stay with them one of these days.

It’s alright that his passenger seat is too empty for comfort, it’ll be okay. He’s okay with waiting for you a little longer.

You’ll be home soon.