The Gravity of Your Bones {Kirk/Klaus}

I can't say I understand the point of a tie. The first time I was presented with one, my stylist spent all of sixty seconds listening to my weak protests before looping it around my neck and fastening it up tight.

"It's strangling me, I'm sure of it!" I'd pleaded.

"Don't be ridiculous. It makes you look strong. Manly. Trust me, if I could paint you with bravery, I would. This is the closest we'll get." She sighed at me, tilting my chin in her hands.


These words stick in my mind tonight, Daisy yanks on the bottom end of the darn thing with all her might.


"Daddy!" she demands loudly. "What is this?"


I glance in the mirror and redo the top button of my best shirt, which seems to constantly come undone without my permission. "It's supposed to make me look brave."


"You always look brave, Daddy," she purrs. She has gotten the hang of flattery, and has for the past couple of weeks spent her time wandering around the house and showering everybody she can find with praise, in the hope that they might take pity on her and provide her with an extra biscuit, or a walk in the park. Most days, it works.

The only person who Daisy's plan ceases to impress begins to cry. Penelope is sitting at the foot of my bed with her thumb in her mouth. She has spent her afternoon making it clear she does not want me to go out.

"It's very nearly your bedtime anyway, girls. I'll only be out for a couple of hours."

"Aunty Meena?" asks Penelope, her lip pouted. My heart breaks a little.

"No, I'm not seeing Aunty Marina. But I'm sure you'll see her soon. I'm seeing a friend. You'll both be good girls, wont you? Do what Lyana tells you?"

. . . 

The tie still feels like it is choking me. It is either that, or I am more nervous about this meeting than I thought I was. (The word 'date' still feels to foreign, even in my mind.)


When I approach, he is leaning against the wall in the most nonchalant of ways. He does not notice me until I am standing right beside him.

"Good evening." I shiver, and not from the cold. Internally, I scold myself - I have been seeing him for more than a month and still I must search for a smile within myself - rummage around for it until I can ease the uncertainty from my voice.


"Good evening," he says, slyly. "I like your tie.”


The corners of my lips turn upward, before I realize that his eyebrow is raised almost to his forehead and he is reaching out to fix it. It is attached to me upside down. My cheeks flare crimson.


He loops capable finger around the fabric, and I can feel his breath slow and steady on my cheek. He concentrates.

"Shall, er, shall we go inside?" I gesture to the restaurant.