Where Flynn moves in time, Ellie moves in space. He progresses, through jobs, through friends, through life, always forward into the future, always pressing on to see what more he can gain. She floats sideways, across lands and waters and places she cannot or will not remember, but she stays the same. Sure, her hair may grow, her face may crease, but child-Ellie and teenage-Ellie and adult-Ellie all have the same foolish dreams. She is a stationary point while the world moves onwards.
She could, once upon a time, blame her family for her seeming unwillingness to mature, to bloom, but in truth it must be something inside her. Perhaps she is scared, insecure about her place, or perhaps she is merely unable to grow. A stunted weed that, while beautiful and pure, is wholly useless.
When she's with Flynn she can feel herself wanting to blossom.

When he guides her to a chair, Ellie sits down quietly, and all at once an overwhelming fatigue settles on her like the night sky blankets the villages. She doesn't hear the girl leave, doesn't see the look in her eye that Ellie knows only too well. At least Ellie only has Jasper to concern her (though, she supposes, his actions must be far worse than all of Flynn's family combined could dream of). She takes another deep breath, and lets Flynn's words fill her head, her eyes squeezed shut as if it could keep them all inside forever.

“Renn,” she says lightly. “That's very pretty. Like the bird?” And then the room falls silent again. She must answer him, she knows she must, but she cannot say how she feels because words are never enough. Ellie supposes she has never thought about how her flitting through life affects Flynn, not until now, not until he speaks with that rawness hidden between his words. She opens her eyes and forces herself to meet his gaze.
“I can't promise,” she tells him with a sigh, “because I promised not to make any more promises. Because I always break them. And it breaks me. I don't want to break any more.” She takes his hand in hers, looks down at the entwined fingers as she says, “I love you, too, Flynn. And I never want to leave again. But if I promise I won't, then I will, so I won't promise. Do you see?” She smiles, a bright flash of joy across her face, but then her eyes harden and she looks back at him. “I need you, Flynn.”
And she knows, at last, that she truly does need him. Because without him, she will wither and die. Without him, she has no hope of blossoming.

i o d i n e .

kiss me,
beneath the milky twilight.