"Oh Bdubs," Etho mumbles through his fingers. Bdubs thinks he's never heard words sound so soft yet weighted, trapped in an oxymoron that still sounds like heaven if only because it was Etho who'd said them. "What are we doing?" There's a strange sense of tranquility that blankets over Bdubs as he too pushes forward to lean into the railing, crossing his arms and resting them on the spruce fence gates. The night persists beyond them, cool with a breeze that would mark it perfect for hot drinks and the stoking of a fire. Just say the word, Bdubs thinks to himself. I'll spend all night collecting logs and sticks, just tell me what to do. But Etho never speaks, and Bdubs suppresses a shiver against the next gust of wind. "What we always do." ---- Everyone expects the arguments--the sharp words and need for space. The inevitable return that begins with soft footsteps and uncertain glances. But no one ever seems to mention that forgiveness doesn't always begin with an apology. Sometimes it looks like dinner on the stove and a table set for two.
Unconventional apology fics, my beloved
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Word Count: 1785
Content Warning(s): N/A
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#ethubs #ao3
