was she being cute, right now? blinking slowly, looking at the way she pursed those pink lips of hers into a heart shape as she blew air into her cheeks. oh my god, she was being cute with him right now! putting a hand over his chest, he leaned back as if he got shot, eyes closed and groaning in agony. “ oh no. i’m not your type?! how could this be? i thought i was everyone’s type. my world is shattered. “ opening one eye, he couldn’t help but laugh and straightened himself out before shaking his head. “ so what is your type? clearly not someone attractive cause i mean–look at me. i have the statute of a greek statue. i think it was melody, yeah it was melody. she was mentioning that the greeks strived for perfection in their art. I AM THAT PERFECTION.”
and there was a pause. he stared at her as she spoke in their mother tongue. a little clumsy, rough around the edges. some of the ways she pronounced the words seemed heavier than he was used to, but she was still speaking it. there was something almost homey about the way she was speaking it. it wasn’t formal, like she learned it from someone who had not spoken it in a long time. and yet it reminded him of home. home when it was christmas and snow was everywhere. home where his mother would scold him for playing outside for a bit too long. his nose would be red as he shuffled into their small home before she handed him a mug full of sbiten. how long has it been since he had a cup? how long had it been since he heard anyone speak russian without the intent to kill. someone innocent.
“what are you apologizing for? no one is perfect! and i’m sure once we start talking behind stick up his ass and hot pants’ back, you’ll be fluent in no time!– i would add melody to that liste but i’m actually scared that she knows the language…i don’t know what she doesn’t know. it’s kind of frightening how much she knows. ” leaning in closer. but he didn’t lean in with the intent to be romantic. he didn’t lean in to steal a kiss. lifting a finger, he picked off an eyelash from her cheek and brought it up to her. but then he locked eyes with her, he saw those baby blue eyes and felt himself stop breathing. they were just so blue. why did she insist on covering them up, they were incredible. staring and staring he realized how long he was staring for and gave her a small smile. “sorry, eyelash–uhmn. make a wish.” his tone was gentle, his tone was soft as if he was sharing a secret with her.
they were so close that they were practically touching foreheads. ( later dimitri would admit that this was probably the moment where he first realized he was in love with this girl. the moment he stared into those eyes of hers. the moment she spoke in russian. the moment he finally got to know her. )
“ oh come on. that’s bullying. it wasn’t that awful. traumatized is a bit harsh, scarlett.” did he just call her by her name? was that the first time? or did it slip before? shaking his head, he looked at her from the corner of his eyes before he let out a sigh. “she wins. and i’m glad she does. and she’s the one to do it. to tell him off and everything. it was her in the end. she was the one that had to do it. she couldn’t have had a knight or a prince do it like those disney films. no. this was all her. “
a look of relief washed across his face as she said she hated snails. he didn’t know if his stomach could handle such ‘ rich food. ‘ or as he liked to call it, food that rich people ate and claimed was amazing but seriously what could top a taco. “i have some money. i mean the plaza is nearby and they have the big super market but they also have this tiny eastern european bakery. their povitica is amazing. like i had a food baby after i ate that. i ate the whole thing by myself. it was that good.”
WHAT IS YOUR TYPE, SCARLETT? BE HONEST. would it be too big of a lie if she said she doesn’t know? whenever she thinks of a type, she thinks of him. of the way his ( cold ) eyes look at her, the way his lips purse, the way his ( rough ) hands feel against her skin, the way that he pulls on her bottom lips until it BLEEDS. can she consider him a type? can he be her ONLY type? you weren’t attracted to him, though, not always. don’t you remember that? don’t you remember that time? she taps on the marble counter, raising her brows as she looks at him. ❛ if i told y’, sugah, i’d have to kill ya. ❜ there’s a PLAYFULNESS in her tone, even if it is slightly overshadowed by the seriousness of it.
she feels almost judged as she he looks at her, can feel redness creeping into her cheeks — not that he’ll or anyone will be able to see it. you’re hiding under a mask. —, and almost immediately looks down, prepared for the WORST, body and soul ready for a scolding. it’s bad, bad, bad. the language is bad, her accent is bad, she’s bad, she’s —- he looks up almost immediately, mouth hanging open as she processes his words, taking a moment or two to finally understand them. ❛ y’ don’t —- y’ don’ think it sounds ugly? ❜ because it is, isn’t it? it’s WRONG, it feels wrong, it —- feels right, like home, like something that she has lost so long ago, something unretrievable. ❛ we should still call ‘em by their names, so they know we’re talkin’ ‘bout them. and i’m pre’y sure melody knows la’in, so —- ❜
scarlett looks at him as he leans closer, not finding the inner strength to look away. there’s something CAPTIVATING about his eyes, something that draws her in ( somewhere, though, somewhere she knows that it’s not a one way street. that she’s being pulled in and so is he. somewhere, somewhere she knows that she is OPENING space for him, taking out what was once his. his eyes are deep and kind. his eyes tell a story. ). her lips are parted, and she knows that there’s too much time going, that they are lingering for too long, that maybe she should look away, that he would not be happy with that, but — ( but he’s miles and miles and miles away, and she’s here, and he’s here and —- does he miss her? ). she looks away when she feels his hand on her cheek, an all-consuming FEAR taking over her body as she blinks and blinks and blinks. maybe it will go away. maybe she’ll forget. hopefully, hopefully, hopefully.
MAKE A WISH. what do you wish for, scarlett? HOME. the smell of freshly baked cookies, the laughter of a woman, heavy accents, and — and — PHILLIP, right? phillip. yes. no, no, no, no. YES. stop lying to yourself. NO. she blows the lash away from his thumb, looking at him before blinking a couple of times. she can’t help but smile when he calls her SCARLETT. there’s something special about being called that. ❛ yeah, exactly. i’ve always wan’ed to be like her. as STRONG as her. i ‘unno. ❜
she, rally, can’t help but smile. and, this time, it spreads through her cheeks, and it’s WIDER than any one that she has given him yet. it’s GENUINE, too, and it sticks even when she tries to bite it away. how long has it been since she ate povitica? her grandad used to make the greatest one, she remembers that well enough. she presses her lips against one another, tilting her head ever so slightly. ❛ wha’ are we waitin’ for, then? y’ ough’a buy me two of ‘em now. ❜