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#the tenderness of feeding smo else oranges 😭
bechloesupercorp · 1 year
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on the days that they don't work together (rare), bea takes the wicker basket that ava impulsively bought at the very beginning of their stay in the alps. ("like from the movies bea!")
two blankets, sandwiches, and an orange to share.
the first time, ava tramples around the fields for a solid 40 minutes, returning with a bunch of hand selected flowers. "thank you," she whispers, tucking a blossom behind bea's ear. the breath is stuck in her throat.
bea has to drop her off at work again before she can even take a breath.
walking back to their apartment over the cobblestones, she cradles the flower in her palms. edelweiss. noble and white. l'étoile d'Alpes. the star of the alps. but with ava beside her, she doesn't think anything shines brighter.
it gets pressed that night, soft and gentle, between the pages of her leather bound journal.
--- --- ---
the next time, night has fallen as they stroll away from the strobe lights of the bar. this time it's quieter, huddled under a blanket by the lake.
"do you think," ava murmurs, facing the water, "that people can feel the love we leave?" will you feel it when i'm dead and gone?
beatrice's heart aches. "i think they do. and all the love we've yet to give." if only you could feel the love in my heart that rests in your hands, my dear, she wants to say, and the things i would give for you to live, but the words stick in her mouth.
"i like it here," ava breathes, here with you.
"i do too," bea responds, eyes fixed on ava's face. l'etoile d'Alpes, she thinks, is sitting right here with me.
tears glisten on her cheeks in the moonlight. and beatrice has never seen anything brighter.
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