The laughter came easy at Charlie’s dramatics, shaking her head in amusement. “Well, two things can be true at the same time,” she smirked playfully at him. “It was a very…immersive one-man-show. I learned a lot about you.” She ducked and raised a hand to avoid the napkin he tossed at her. His mock offense made her laugh, and she was about to toss the napkin back at him when his fingers found her side. An involuntary squeak escaped her, immediately followed by a giggle as she swatted at his hand. “Hey now! Keep your hands to yourself!” Signe grinned, her smile lingering as her gaze softened on him. His soft words about her family had her heart aching in a beautiful way. Family’s everything. That was exactly right, wasn’t it? A truth that Signe knew all the way down to her bones. “Yeah, they are,” she murmured softly. "i’m insanely lucky, I know that. My parents have always wanted the best for me.” Her gaze met his and her breath caught at the distance ( or lack thereof ) between them. Signe ducked her head, trying to hide the way a smile tugged at her. “Quit it,” she muttered, reaching out give him a half-hearted shove. She dared glance at him from underneath her eyelashes, but the mirth in her eyes gave away just how much she was truly enjoying this – he had to know that. “You might’ve mentioned it,” she said, trying to sound more exasperated than she fell. “Just once or twice, you know.” Because you are. Ridiculously so. Ugh, he was so unfair. Charlie didn’t look away, because of course he didn’t. He simply leaned back and asked that she continue her story. She was a little flustered, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, but after a slight hesitation, Signe obliged the request. “Okay, so…there was this exhibit in Copenhagen. I was, twelve, maybe? They were having a special traveling circuit that was all these medieval gowns – real ones, not just replicas,” she smiled at the memory. “And the colors were so vibrant and they were so detailed. They were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen but even beyond that, the clothing told a story.” It was one of the many brushes a person could wield to make themselves scene without words. “I was super shy as a kid, and clothing became a way for me to speak out about my place in the world. So, while my mom spoke with the staff about some consulting job she was doing, I just stood there. Absolutely floored.” “I started devouring YouTube videos and check outed books from the school library…I spent most of that first year doodling sketch ideas on the edges of my homework,” she said. “It was my little secret until college came around. Then the words came tumbling out at dinner because I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It was absolutely terrifying.” Signe blinked, as if re-entering herself after memory lane. Her cheeks flushed and laughed, almost shyly.”But that was the ‘moment’ – not a runway, or sketchbook. Just a museum."
Charlie felt like the whole scene had slowed down, the way Signe smiled at the semla like he’d just handed her the winning lottery ticket. The glow of the sunset hitting just behind her, soft around her shoulders, made the moment feel like one of those cheesy rom-coms his mum always had on when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. And there he was, grinning like an idiot right in the middle of it. “That’s… an absolutely insane compliment,” he managed, blinking slow, dumb smile still glued to his face. “I’m well chuffed. Glad it’s dangerous. That’s what I was goin’ for.” His laugh came easy, soft as he shook his head at himself.
But it was the teasing glint in her eye when she called him out on his last ‘monologue’ that really did him in. Charlie gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest like she’d wounded him. “Oi, and here I thought you enjoyed gettin’ to know me,” he shot back, feigning betrayal, though his grin only grew wider. “Et tu, Signe? Cruel.. Proper cruel.” He grabbed a crumpled napkin and tossed it at her with mock offense, his laugh spilling out fully now. “Ever the critic, aren’t ya?” he teased, leaning in just enough to reach out and give her side a playful squeeze, fingers light and quick. The kind of touch meant to make her laugh but that also left his own skin buzzing where they’d connected.
When she started sharing more, about her family, her parents, her journey into fashion, Charlie shifted, sitting up a little straighter without even realizing it. His smile softened into something steadier, quieter. The teasing faded just enough to let something more honest settle between them. “That’s… really beautiful, Signe,” he said after a beat, his voice lower, gentler. “Your folks sound like good people. Sounds like they’ve built you a right strong foundation.” He nodded slowly, the warmth in his eyes never leaving. “Family’s everything, innit? I think it’s rare.. people standin’ behind your dreams like that, especially when the dreams aren’t the safest or easiest route. Says a lot about the kind of love you grew up with.”
Charlie reached for a bottle of water from the basket as his gaze found hers again, closer now, somehow, without either of them moving too much. His lips twitched up at the corners, playful again but still soft around the edges. “Did I tell you you’re pretty yet, or…?” He raised his brows, pretending to consider, though the smile breaking across his face gave him away. “Feels like I should probably say it again. Just in case.” There was a lightness in his laugh, but when his eyes lingered on her, twisting off the cap of the bottle, the weight behind the words stayed.
“Because you are. Ridiculously so.” He leaned back slightly, just enough to give her a little space, but his gaze didn’t wander. His hand idly spun the bottle cap between his fingers, grounding himself in the motion while his attention stayed fully, deliberately on her. “Now go on,” he added with a tilt of his head and a grin that bordered on soft challenge, “don’t think you’re off the hook. I wanna hear the rest of the story. What's the piece you saw that did you in? Tell me about these medieval outfits.. Your big 'I'm gonna do this' moment.”
She rolled her eyes as he teased her saying she already knew he was rude. The butterflies in her stomach were not deterred by his cocky attitude in the slightest. It would have to be studied, she thought, the way he managed to draw her in even when he was being insufferable. She managed to select a bottle even as they exchanged charged glances from across the room. Charlie pointed her in the direction of the bottle opener and glasses and she was already moving towards the drawer. She located the bottle opener with relative ease and then reached for the cupboard with the glasses. Signe’s eyes found their way back to Charlie as he shook the pan of veggies, noting the way his muscles flexed. Oh, he was totally showboating, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed by it. Just secretly pleased that he was doing it for her. She turned her head to once again focus on the task at hand when she felt him come up behind her. Signe stood still for a moment longer than necessary, her pulse quickening as his arms wrapped around her so casually like it was the most natural thing in the world. She leaned back into his embrace as he rested his chin on her shoulder. It unsettled her in a way that she didn’t hate. Not even a little. Her fingers tightened just lightly around the bottle in her hand as he spoke softly into her ear. She bit on her lip to fight the smile that so desperately wanted to break onto her face, but she didn’t turn to face him yet. “You’re very excited about these playlists,” she said lightly, voice teasing, but softer underneath. Her fingers moving on instinct to open the wine she’d picked out, needing the action to steady her. He pressed a barely there kiss to her shoulder and that is when Signe turned her head to look at him. She could still feel the imprint of his touch on her waist even after he’d stepped back. “We’ll just have to put them in the same order. To make sure we know what song was for which category,” she breathed, turning her head to finish pouring each of them a glass. She grabbed one and offered it to him, eyes finally meeting his again. This – them – they felt good. It felt easy in that impossible, rare way, but easy didn’t always mean lasting. And that scared her. The idea of falling too hard, too fast and then being burned because she’s was impulsive. “One glass of wine, then one playlist. Do you want to do the honors of going first?” she asked, tilting her head. She smiled, a bit coyly. “But if I cry, I’m blaming you and not the moscato.”
Charlie chuckled, the sound low and unguarded as she bumped his hip. Her voice saying his name like that, dragging it out, playful and knowing was almost too much. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his grin from going smug. "I knew you were trouble the second you said my name like it meant something," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
"I'm certain you already know that I'm rude." He laughed, biting down on his lip as she scolded him. He tried to hide the fact that his knees were a little unsteady, that her tone and smile had gone straight to the center of him. But Charlie Hughes had spent years perfecting composure. On the pitch, in the kitchen, through more nights out than he cared to count. So he just rolled his shoulders back, smirked like it was no big deal, and returned to chopping like he wasn’t completely undone by her in his gaff, in that dress, with that mouth. When she moved toward the wine fridge, he watched from the corner of his eye. How she moved, the way her fingers hovered over the bottles. Then her gaze flicked up and met his. For a moment, neither of them looked away. Not until she ducked her head with that little smile that killed him every single time. He exhaled through a grin, shaking his head to himself as he turned back to the cutting board.
But he felt her watching. The weight of her gaze trailed over him like it had hands of its own, across his shoulders, down his arms. It was the same sensation he used to get before a goal, just before the crowd would roar. Electric. Measured. Certain. He smirked, a cockiness flaring up in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Not since he'd been on the pitch, scouters in the stands watching him dart from side to side, easily maneuvering around defenders, kicking the ball in like it were a choreographed routine. He was in his element then, and he was starting to believe he was in his element with her. And for a moment, it wasn’t about nerves or hope or even romance. It was about that deep, thudding instinct that said you belong here.
He glanced at the label she’d chosen before nodding toward the counter. "Bottle opener’s top drawer, left of the sink. Glasses are all the way over.. yeah, there," he said, gesturing vaguely with the knife before swapping it out for a baking sheet. He spread the vegetables with ease, drizzling olive oil and tossing them with his hands. If his biceps flexed a little as he shook the pan, well, that wasn’t entirely on purpose. Probably. Once the tray slid into the oven and he’d wiped his hands on the towel, Charlie crossed the kitchen, stepping behind her with no urgency, just presence. His arms found their place around her waist like they belonged there. He tucked his chin briefly over her shoulder and let his voice drop low against the curve of her neck.
"Shall we get those playlists goin’, then?" he asked, casual as ever, like his heart wasn’t racing. Then softer, more sincere, "Also wouldn’t mind just sittin’ next to you while it plays. Don’t even need to talk. Just… y’know. Be." He let his lips brush the edge of her shoulder, barely there, before pulling back, hands sliding off her waist slow and easy, like he really didn't want to let go. "Wine first, though," he said, clearing his throat, "Can’t have emotional vulnerability without a good glass of moscato."
Signe hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if her request was had crossed a line when the girl reached across and made quick work of the tangled mess that she’d been struggling with for the past ten minutes. She raised an eyebrow at the other, giving a very pointed stare to the flash of fingers working through the knots. “Uh … yes? You look like someone who could take on every knot-related crisis in the tri-county area.” She took the bracelet back gently, her smile leaning towards sheepish. “I sew like…actual clothes. I thought I could handle a couple of pieces of string.” Signe laughed quietly as she studied the now pristine and untangled beginnings of a bracelet. “Apparently not, but you’ve got my full endorsement if you need testimonials for business,” she quipped.
serena takes one look at the knot , “ do i look like i know how to untangle these things ? ” it wasn't supposed to come off any way , but her relaxed tone said otherwise . taking the bracelet without second thought , serena gets to work . “ i used to be obsessed with making these . that might've been my first business actually . ” memories flood back to a little serena , setting up shop in elementary school , her stash of friendship bracelets sitting in her pencil box for her peers to peruse . within seconds , serena hands the bracelet back , shrugging . “ you're making me want to pick this up again . ”
Signe smiled gently, the gesture growing even softer as she registered the one of the many pet names her father had for her. Her gaze lingered on the painting for a second before turning towards her father and shaking her head. “It’s fine. The moment’s passed,” she shrugged, her eyes warm even as her heart felt heavy with a feeling she couldn’t quite name. “Fika fixes most things, anyway.” She never forgot how lucky she was. As a teenager, she’d been absolutely terrified of deviating from the path she was so certain was expected of her. But her parents had never scoffed or rolled their eyes at her passion, never sat her down to steer her back toward something ‘more practical.’ Signe knew that was not the case for everyone. That not everyone had parents who would let them want different things–to let them just try. The chestnut-haired girl wrapped an arm around her father’s waist, already leading him away from the painting and back out towards the street. “There’s a cute little coffee shop a few blocks over that I was wanting to check out, if you’re up for a bit of walking.” Signe glanced up at him, a measured easy smile on her lips. But behind her eyes lay a quiet resolve. She would make every sacrifice her parents had ever made for her matter. She had to. For herself—and for them.
pappa. it never got old, hearing her refer to him in the same way that she had since she was able to talk. he remembered those first syllables so vividly — after signe had mastered ‘mamma’ he sat, stared, and watched her for hours on end, tuned into her young babbling like radio static. just when he had almost lost hope, she had mustered the first p, and then the rest of the syllables. in that moment, søren had vowed never to underestimate his only child again. and he never had. it would have been easy for the two parents to turn their nose up at signe’s desire to pursue something creative. a doctor and a professor, with enough credits after their names to make up an entire new alphabet … it didn’t matter, so long as signe was happy. the holmströms had money — søren had worked in order to be a provider for their family — and there had never been any doubt that helping their daughter chase her dreams was where that wealth belonged. he didn’t always understand it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t support it. “oh, sötnos, i didn’t mean to ruin your focus.” søren straightened his back and followed signe’s gaze the the painting she had been admiring. he still couldn’t quite believe that their daughter had ended up with his pale gaze. “can i help you get it back? there’s nothing fika can’t fix.” one arm draped around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “is there anywhere you had in mind ? ”
She offered him a secret smile, one that highlighted just how much she enjoyed their little back and forth, like they were the only two who understood the true meaning behind their words. A pleased flush was on her cheeks when his lips brushed against them, the blush something that was becoming a semi-permanent trait in his presence. “Oh, you can’t stop thinking about me?” Her hand came up to his chest, her fingers trailing along the frankly disrespectful display of bare skin before lifting her gaze to his. “For the record, I mildly enjoy your company the most when you’re making declarations like that.” With that stupid pretty mouth was the part she left unsaid. A beat passed and then she added, softer. “But you’re right. I like having you around… like who I am around you.” Her hand traced up his collarbone and then she brushed her thumb along the edge of his jaw. “I don’t care who you used to be, Charlie. I care about who you choose to be now. I know we pretty much just met, but this version of you? He’s a good man,” Signe leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth with quiet intention. “And from the little I know, even back then, you had this heart underneath it all. Even if you were to slip, you’d find your way back.” She looked into his eyes, making sure he saw how much she believed the words she was saying. She smiled and reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling out her phone. “Come on, let’s take a selfie. I want to remember our first date,” she said, whirling around and leaning back into him. She snapped a few photos quickly, trying to catch him off-guard in a few before he posed with her. Signe giggled, glancing at the photos on her phone. She looked over her shoulder and smirked, mischief sparking in her eyes. “Want to take a really unhinged one?”
Charlie arched a brow, the cocky edge to his grin settling in as he stepped closer, just enough for her to feel his presence. He raised his eyebrows, leveling his eyes to hers, "You only mildly enjoy my company under very specific circumstances… got it," he said, drawing the words out with playful mock offense. He tilted his head, eyes glittering with teasing challenge as he slowly licked his lips, then dipped his head. "I think," he murmured low near her ear, "you’re tryin’ to keep me around more than you’re lettin’ on." He didn’t move far after that, gaze softening slightly as he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes.
"I get what you mean. Maybe that’s what I am too.. I’ve always chased connection, maybe attention, if we’re bein’ honest. I just liked bein’ around people. Didn’t matter who, really." He paused. "I might feel a bit different now, though... Can’t stop thinkin’ about you." His lips brushed just barely against her cheek, gentle and intentional.
His voice dipped again, quieter this time, the smile faltering only slightly. "My mum never expected much from me.. she just wanted me happy. It was everyone else. Coaches, mates, teachers… my father.. they saw potential and pushed it hard. I was good, so it made sense." He shrugged, the motion small but rigid at the edges. "And then it was.. well I had to change plans. Just like that." His injury may have been nearly a decade prior, but it hadn't hurt him any less.
Charlie’s eyes dropped for a moment, thumb brushing lightly along her arm aimlessly, grounding himself as much as her. "I think what scares me most is slippin’ back into who I used to be.. The kid with a mile hight wall, always deflectin’ with a joke.. Or worse, turnin’ into the men I was raised around." He looked down at her, thoughtfully, "I don't wanna be the man I was.. I really like what I have now, and I don't intend on screwin' this up." He looked back up at her then, the smile returning, smaller but more real. "And I’m not gonna, Signe. Not with you. I'm not goin' anywhere and I mean that. You're not gonna scare me away."
#𝐁𝐲𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞: a study in soft things
“Oh, you’re a life saver!” she grinned, carefully accepting the untangled bracelet back like it might somehow tangle itself again if she wasn’t gentle enough. “Thank you,” Signe said, offering him a polite but genuine smile. “I owe you one — you saved me from a pretty public meltdown over here.” Signe taped one end of her friendship bracelet down and straightened the pattern outline that she had been following. It was probably a bit more complicated than what most attempted as a first try, but she also figured if these were crafts for children, surely she should be able to handle a slightly more complex pattern. Her fingers fiddled with the threads and gave him a side glance. “You’re not wrong about us being our own worst critics,” Signe tucked her hair behind her ears. She had a lifetime of that lesson that she was trying to undo. “It’s easier to show other people grace than ourselves, right?” She laughed, quiet but sincere, when he mentioned keeping his crafts. “I think that’s actually really cool, though,” she said after a moment. “Keeping them even if you’re not exactly proud of them. It’s proof that you at least tried, right?” The thought was encouraging enough for her fingers to set work again on the strings. “So you do this sort of thing often?” she asked, gesturing towards the bracelet in front of her.
"If that is true, I think I'm only doing slightly better." He said responded with a soft chuckle as he continued to work on the knot. Isaiah lifted his eyes from the bracelet in his hands for a moment to offer a warm smile, "It's no problem." His attention returned to his hands as he weighed how much to say. While he wasn't too hard on himself when it came to creative endeavors much as this, there were many other instances where he would hold himself to an unrealistic standard. "I've found it's a reminder we could all use from time. We're our harshest critics, right?"
Another chuckle came from him as he finally finished untangling the knot and handed it back to the other, "I tend to feel the same way whenever I go to any of the more creative free classes the community center sometimes offers. At this point, I'm surprised my apartment isn't overflowing with some mediocre crafts." As much as he'd like to, he never immediately chucked the failed craft in the garbage, feeling as if that might be rude to whoever was instructing the class. Even if he failed at the objective, he didn't want it to seem like he didn't appreciate the instructor's time.
“There’s gotta be something poetic in that. Bella Lucero, fixer extraordinaire!” Signe swiped her hand dramatically in front of them as if painting the words as she spoke them. “You’ve gotta admit, it’s got a ring to it. It’s a perfect business card tagline if nothing else.” She watched Bella work on her own bracelet, admiring her friend’s quiet focus. She took a steadying breath and returned to finishing her bracelet. “I’m planning on making more than one of these, but it feels like you need the honor of receiving this one for all your help.” Signe grinned and nodded, her eyes flitting back and forth between the pattern she was following and her own bracelet. “Consider it my thank you.”
bella had to laugh because the last thing she was expecting was for her to be able to untie this thing. she had been trying for the last couple of minutes. felt longer than it was even. it finally was able to untie after what seemed like she should've just thrown it away into the trash and found her friend a different one. " you know... you're right? this seems like something that i probably should add onto a resume or something. never know when that skill could become necessary. " she'd joke with a playful tone of voice. " just you being there and hyping me up while i did it was helpful enough, it seems. don't you think? " that's what happens when you leave it up to her complete determination. " i was thinking that we may of had to do so too. but look at that! now we don't even have to worry about it. i saved the day and now you're all set! " raising an eyebrow jokingly with a shake of her head. " we can't have you getting in trouble for littering while we're out here just trying to enjoy our day. i'm just glad that's not an option now and the least of our worries. " she'd say while continuing to work on the last few beads of her own bracelet.
SIGNE: oh no!! SIGNE: i haven't seen anything out of the ordinary today... SIGNE: do you need help looking??
closed text starter for @ofresoluxe
priya: hi, sorry to bother ! priya: but have you seen a black cat around town today ? priya: i think the maintenance person let him slip out when they were at my place earlier 😓
The way Charlie was looking at her–like she was the only thing that mattered–made it impossible for Signe to think straight. The kiss he pressed to the back of her hand sent a shiver up her spine and even though she tried to hide it, her breath hitched just enough to betray her. Her heart was slamming against her ribs so loudly, she was certain he could hear it. She opened her mouth once. Closed it. Tried again, but all that came out was a breathy little laugh that sounded way too much like a gasp. “I–you–” she stammered, feeling the heat crawl up her neck all the way to the tips of her ears. “You’re not–you can’t just say things like that and expect me to function, Charlie Hughes,” she reprimanded although there was no heat in her words, only her face. Then he started talking about her wearing her own designs and Signe thought she might actually melt into the floor. Without ever seeing her designs, he made he feel like her work–like she– was something worth admiring like that. Signe let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a smile tugging at her lips. “I guess it’s only fair,” she said, her voice still breathless, threaded with something that matched the softness he offered. “You’ll stare, and I’ll be quietly losing my mind every time you look at me like that.” It was meant to be a joke but even that revealed too much. She laughed, light and awkward, and ducked to hide her face in his shoulder for a moment because it was either that or actually lose her mind. She took a moment to steady herself before pulling back just enough to look up at him again, her eyes shining and cheeks burning, and gave him a helpless little smile. “You’re already ruining me... Take some responsibility will you?”
“Just wanted to hear ya say it.” Charlie’s body swayed a little where he sat, clearly pleased with her answer, delight dancing in his expression as he looked over at her without even a flicker of hesitation. “Lucky for you, love,” he added smoothly, “I’ve got no plans to deny ya anything you want.” His voice dipped just enough to make the words feel like more than teasing. Without letting go of her hand, he lifted it between them, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to the back of her fingers, slow, deliberate, like the moment deserved more than a joke.
When she brought up the contract, his grin kicked back into place, easy and wide. He leaned closer, their hands still laced, and gave the smallest tilt of his head, that boyish glint in his eyes returning. “Think we could make it a verbal agreement then, yeah? I’m afraid my hand’s a bit occupied at the moment... super important business.” Charlie glanced up at her through his lashes, smile soft but playful, clearly enjoying the game she was playing, and happy to meet her there.
But when she spoke about wearing her own designs, his expression shifted, that teasing smile softening into something gentler. The way she answered, hesitating and thoughtful, had him leaning in just a touch, genuinely curious now. “I’d actually really like that,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, earnest, even as the corners of his mouth still tugged upward. “If you’re comfortable, of course. I mean… sketches are one thing.. but you? Wearin’ something you made with your own hands?” His smile broke a little wider, a quiet laugh huffing out of him like he couldn’t quite believe how sincere he sounded. “That’s what I’d call art, yeah?”
He gave a small shrug, but the admiration was written all over his face as his gaze stayed locked on hers, softer than before, the flirtation not gone, but folded now into something sweeter, something real. “Fair warning though,” he added, leaning in just enough to close the space between them again, looking both ways like this was top secret information, “I’ve got a terrible habit of starin’ when I’m impressed. And somethin’ tells me I’d be absolutely ruined watchin’ you in one of your own designs.” His lips curved, eyes gleaming, but the look he gave her wasn’t just about charm, it was full of that growing ache he couldn’t quite hide anymore. Like he already knew he was in trouble with her. And maybe he liked it that way.
resoluxe \ˈre-zə-ˌluks\ 1. the quality of resolving a challenge or decision with sophistication, elegance, and luxury.
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