Wait for love... you know you will

[m_pinocchio]

He's making wreaths out of the red blossoms. They're rough and half falling apart, and he's doing it without giving much thought to it, weaving the stems round each other, and the flower petals are crushed between his fingers, leaving red stains on his hands. On either side of the doorway, the little vines are curling tender green lengths

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[out_of_realm]

Growing up as a military brat and later moving Sophie all over the States had made Tom a good packer. He knew where to find the best boxes, how to crumble up newspaper in just the right way, and how to handle a rented moving truck with all of his wordly belongings rattling around in the back.

Here, it was different. Here, he found his best pack and collected the bits and pieces that a year of solitary living had amassed. Ammo, his clothes, half empty tube of lube and the sunbleached picture of Sophie and their little girl. Into the pack, over his shoulder, and he pulled the flap on the door closed behind him. Glancing at Neil's little hut just visible through the trees, he set off to the World Tree, where Mike was folding vines through his fingers.

"Hey," he called after watching him for a few moments, a smile almost tugging at his lips. "I have, uh," he murmured vaguely, almost nervous, and held out his pack as evidence. "You know. My stuff."

[m_pinocchio]

He looks up abruptly, close to startled, though he should have heard Tom's approaching footsteps minutes before. He lets himself get lost in his own head more easily these days.

Getting soft. And maybe that's not entirely a bad thing.

He's got his stuff. Something in Mike's chest uncoils and it's like he can breathe more deeply. "Okay," he says, hazarding a tiny smile of his own and glancing at the items in Tom's arms. "And what're you gonna do with it?"

[out_of_realm]

Tom pursed his lips as if he was really considering it, shifting his weight uneasily.

"Um. Well. I was thinking about putting in this jerk I know's house..."

[m_pinocchio]

"Well." He lays down the flowers he's working with and gives Tom a speculative look. It's taking all his self-control to not burst into a huge grin. He's had a feeling that this is how it was going to end up, but he hasn't been sure, hasn't even been sure why it matters so much, only that it does. He can't be alone anymore. That time is over.

"If he's such a jerk, I'm not sure why you'd trust him with your stuff."