How The Standstill Ends
But despite all of that—the burning hot shame caused by his existence that felt like mosquitos biting his innards—there was this wanting that lived inside him. It was buried in a cave that was called his heart. Flickering like a low candle flame, it lit up the dark cavities of his corpse, like a lighthouse beaming through a stormy night, and it was probably the most (and only) human thing about him.
Bob—and he’d never admit this out loud so don’t tell anyone—wanted.
He wanted so hard that tenderness. It was ironic how violently he craved such a gentle thing. A living oxymoron that ripped through his veins and arteries.
The worst contradiction yet? The wanting and the self-disgust. His nails grasping on for dear life onto that simple connection, like ripping bed sheets yet silently stitching it up because no one can see the mess. His broken heart and broken mind at war, still at a standstill these twenty-nine years later.
— — —
Or, Robert "Bob" Reynolds' unofficial guide to breaking the standstill of his being.
----
howdy everyone! finally posted a fic! it's a bob reynolds character study with voidwalker slowburn. i've finally posted something for the first time in a hot minute. i don't know how else to advertise it but spread the word, i've posted a fic
