[ This end to a relationship has been amicable — there were no arguments in the preceding weeks, there was no final clash. Lumine didn't order Dainsleif to pack his things and get out, nor did she tell him never to contact her again. She was kind about it, from start to finish. She presented her case, and he listened, and he agreed to respect her wishes.
All in all, they are parting on good terms. Yes, their relationship's end is merely a natural full-stop after a neatly-structured paragraph in which little took place. If Lumine craves more than peaceful domesticity, more than unwavering devotion, that is her right.
Her honesty should be commended — better to feel its sting now than to learn too late that she was unhappy, unfulfilled.
Every one of these considerations is rational. Lumine is not in the wrong. Feelings may change as time passes.
Why, then, is it so difficult to mark items off on a mental checklist of moving out? Dainsleif's belongings fill a single suitcase; he has no furniture that he needs to take with him. His workplace will assist him with the arrangements for another apartment. He has already returned the copy of this apartment's key that had been his to use during his stay here at Lumine's side.
Once he leaves, he won't return. The memories lingering in the corners of these rooms will remain there, left to fade.
The doorbell startles him. He stirs as if shaken out of a daze, opens the door. Lumine's brother — Aether — stands there, on the other side. Dainsleif blinks. Subtly, some tension settles over his features, pulling his brows lower.
Aether is golden-hued, like a warm sunset to behold, where Lumine's paler coloring ever reminded Dainsleif of a pristine winter landscape. And yet, there are similarities, here and there...
He blinks once more, stepping aside to clear the doorway, distantly surprised to realize that his fingers are tense on the edge of the opened door. Averting his gaze from Aether's sympathetic expression, he nods to indicate his suitcase. ]
...There isn't much, unless Lumine has items to discard. [ He pauses for a second before glancing back at Aether. ] I appreciate it.
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All in all, they are parting on good terms. Yes, their relationship's end is merely a natural full-stop after a neatly-structured paragraph in which little took place. If Lumine craves more than peaceful domesticity, more than unwavering devotion, that is her right.
Her honesty should be commended — better to feel its sting now than to learn too late that she was unhappy, unfulfilled.
Every one of these considerations is rational. Lumine is not in the wrong. Feelings may change as time passes.
Why, then, is it so difficult to mark items off on a mental checklist of moving out? Dainsleif's belongings fill a single suitcase; he has no furniture that he needs to take with him. His workplace will assist him with the arrangements for another apartment. He has already returned the copy of this apartment's key that had been his to use during his stay here at Lumine's side.
Once he leaves, he won't return. The memories lingering in the corners of these rooms will remain there, left to fade.
The doorbell startles him. He stirs as if shaken out of a daze, opens the door. Lumine's brother — Aether — stands there, on the other side. Dainsleif blinks. Subtly, some tension settles over his features, pulling his brows lower.
Aether is golden-hued, like a warm sunset to behold, where Lumine's paler coloring ever reminded Dainsleif of a pristine winter landscape. And yet, there are similarities, here and there...
He blinks once more, stepping aside to clear the doorway, distantly surprised to realize that his fingers are tense on the edge of the opened door. Averting his gaze from Aether's sympathetic expression, he nods to indicate his suitcase. ]
...There isn't much, unless Lumine has items to discard. [ He pauses for a second before glancing back at Aether. ] I appreciate it.