❝oh, you ( GOLDEN ) girls, you glorious GIRLS. oh, you
W O L V E S in ( PRETTY ) skin. the ( WORLD ) caught its
B R E A T H when you first met now S T O R M S follow your ( EVERY ) step and the ( STARS ), they never let you R E S T. ❞
‘ if you mean the fight we had earlier about him leaving his dirty socks on the floor again, then yes, we are DEFINITELY fighting. if it’s anything else, however— not that i know of. ’
OH MY GOD ,, I ACCIDENTALLY FOLLOWED BACK A PORN BLOG TRYNA FOLLOW ALL THE NEW PEOPLE ,, iv ? ??
[ dedicates my immortal to evanescence to the loss of my innocence tbh ] ,, just tryna Unfollow them was an experience i could have lived w/o tbqh
but y IKES ,, iv been gone 4 far too long ,, hnstly ,, [ emma roberts bitchy voiceover ] surprise bitch ,, i bet you thought you saw the last of me ,,
sadly ,, or GLADLY !! idk depends on ur perspective ,, i’m still alive .. i’m not rlly kicking rn bc the amount of homework i have is hnstly, plainly , srsly ridiculous ,, but i just want all the members ,, yung & old to Know that , ily all !! i love all ur chars that i see when i stalk the dash tbh ,, the convos ,, Everything ,, so even if i’m lacking in activity w charlie rn ,, i’m still in Love w/ u all ,,
just a def heads up ,, that my activity is probs gnna be ridiculously low for the next week ,, but i’m def gnna try my best to be keeping up on the dash & in my pm’s !! which def means that Yes ,, this is an invite !! ( or tbh more like a desperate plea ) to plot !! all of the Need to Know info abt charlie can be found HERE ,, & that u should always feel free to hmu ok !! to plot !! to yell alot ovr marvel tbh & cap3 coming up ,, or just to talk in general ok !!
send me a mssg or just LIKE this post u lil angels !!
tbh i’m so so sorry for the lack of activity the whole day, all my teachers are ki lling me rn w the amount of homework & tests & projects being d uE
like rip my Ass , i’m not gnna survive this i Swer ,
just wanted to pop in to say hello to the new members though !! & though i might not be around ,, i’m still the biggest heaux for pl ots so hmu always ok !!
‘ if i had to name just the one, i’d say— delilah?? she seems quite close to beating me out as ella’s favourite person. though i really can’t complain, seeing as if ella likes them, they must be quite the person. ’
‘ have they got plans to run off together, d’you know?? if so, i do hope they get along. though i don’t doubt they would?? they’re both quite the darlings & i do think they’d go quite lovely together. both a bit ridiculous, both awfully kind. but, in any other way. evan’s evan, & kit’s kit, yes?? ’
‘ alright, if i tell you. just please keep in mind that this happened when i was about thirteen. i refuse to have the actions of the past overrule my future, hear me?? anyways, so i was set to be going on a double date with one of my girls, & she hadn’t wanted to be going out alone for the first date with her boyfriend, & so of course i agreed to go out with her & her boyfriend & whoever they’d planned to set me up with. now, here’s where it gets awful. so, my friend never actually told me beforehand that my date was a girl— now i know it doesn’t sound too awful NOW, & it really isn’t, but at the time it wasn’t so widely accepted & i didn’t know i wouldn’t mind so much in the future, & it was really just awful & awkward & the night ended with me blabbing about & gods, i practically screamed ‘ i’m not gay ! ‘ at her before running off. i must’ve traumatized the poor girl, really. i felt awful. ‘course i let her know, but it just wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone involved. awfully awkward & it was entirely my fault. ’
‘ i love, love mr. ridley bishop because anything he makes is truly to DIE for, so bless his sweet soul for the pastries he brings about. & then of course there’s ella, who i honestly think has more to bring to the table then anyone else i could name. then there’s dr. castronovo, who’s been treating doc & dopey since i first got them, & that’s about it, for people around town? ’
‘ there’s thomas for one, regardless of how distant we may be. your brother’s still your brother no matter how far, right?? & of course there’s evan, who might not be what he once was for me, but whom i still do adore dearly. & there’s vince, who gets me through the worst of it on the worst of days. & ella, of course, my little angel. & i guess the oaf of a man who calls himself her father— & really, i’ll never understand how such a beautiful young girl came from car. but then there’s june, who really, doesn’t get the credit she deserves in my life, & then kit, which really, it feels like i’ve known him for far too many lifetimes past this one. ’
‘ alright, listen—- i’m going to be upfront with you about the facts.
i think kit nolan snores too loudly while others, ( meaning me ) are trying to watch the telly. he spreads far too much jam on his toast in the mornings, because honestly, is he eating the toast with some jam, or jam with some toast?? he has an awful habit of coming home with paint on his clothing & led stains on his fingers, & he never, ever remembers to wash his hands before dinner ‘lest you remind him. he tries to steal food off the pan while it’s still cooking, mind you, & he complains & caterwauls about it ‘till you give it a kiss & hold his hand under cold water for him. he tries to cook breakfast using the least amount of materials possible, meaning one time he tried pouring milk in the cereal bag & when he succeeded he called it an innovation & said it meant i had to do the dishes because i used more plates then he did. he’s ridiculous & loads of fun, but also so full of mischief it could make your head spin on the best of days. he’s boyish & very, truly, beautiful, & though he may at times seem to be more trouble than he’s worth—- i love him with all my heart. ’
kit hadn’t fully realized that he had been holding his breath until there were two charlies. right, he was just going to ignore that brief period of wet and warmth on the pad of his finger because that was not important. swallowing down any comments that would thicken the awkwardness in the atmosphere, he tried for a smile. “ great, so… you like churros. do you want mine ? ” it took another three seconds for that comment to process and when it did, kit felt like the air had quite literally been knocked out of him. his face took on a stunning shade and he tried to steady his breath. okay, good job. ten points for kit nolan. “ just um– ” he extended the churro, a little further than intended, and coughed as it left a glistening smudge of cinnamon-sugar on charlie’s chin. “ y’know just take it– ” ten more points. “ actually, y’know what ? churros are unhealthy. do you just–you wanna go on a ride ? ” jesus christ. “ do you wanna play a game, i–i mean ? ”
her eyes widening even further ( & gods, was that even possible at this point?? ) as kit pushed his churro into her face, with the sticky sugar leaving a trail of cinnamon & sweets behind, the innuendo in it all was really just too, too much. her mouth falling open in a silent shock, it wasn’t until he suggested she take a ride that she finally met her maker. inhaling sharply with a small hiccup of a breath, the exhale came as a stream of laughter that she really, really couldn’t contain. ‘ oh my GOD — ! ’ he was honestly fifty shades of awful & ridiculous & god, how could she explain to the shocked passerbys of her behaviour. what with the way she was nearly folded over in half, churros residue across her face as kit stood over her, churros falling limp where he held it in hand. ‘ o-oh my god. ’ & she was still laughing. ‘ if you wanted me to swallow your churro that bad, kit— ’
she’s in the garden come spring with the tulips blooming & budding about all around her when it happens. there’s a brilliant shade of purple to one of her patches, yellow the next & pink upon the third. mere tulips, but hers, & she thinks, wiping a hand across the sweat that had gathered on her forehead, that it’d be a much prettier sight to enjoy with a friend at her side. she had quite the record for being perhaps the worst gardener in wilmington, & though there had been plenty of doubts in the outcome of her flowers, there had been a certain someone who had stood beside her in her insistence that her tulips would bloom. there’s one patch, two, three gorgeous patches, & she thinks of his face, his soft smile & his softer hands, & she thinks he wouldn’t be so out of place after all.
ii.
she’s lying in bed with the lights dimmed low, the clock on her bedstand reading 2:32AM as she sighs softly under her breath. it’s a quiet night, undifferentiated to the rest, & yet a sleepless night as she stares blankly at the high ceilings of her loft. doc snores quietly at her feet, his tiny paws kicking with every rabbit he imagines chasing in his dreams, & beside her head, dopey’s tail tickles at her ears. it’s quiet, quiet, quiet, & yet her thoughts feel so loud. far too loud where they echo about in her head. it’s 2:35AM in the morning, as another glance at the clock shows, & her mind drifts to the only person she wants to see. she imagines the warmth of his arms, the way his quiet laughter would thrum through his body, only to echo through hers as he held her. she wants him something terrible in that moment, wants that safety, the security, the love. but it’s passing 2:38AM, & he’s something past her reaches. unattainable if only in how unfair it would be of her to ask. she turns to curl up on her side, hugging herself in a poor mimic of his hold, & she wills herself to sleep. quietly, she thinks. she’ll wish for him quietly, & hope for pleasant dreams.
iii.
she’s never quite certain about what to do in situations such as these. sitting outside a hospital room as she listens to a doctor tell the family that it’s time to say their final goodbyes. the ear piercing desperation in the way they cry, the prayers she bears witness to, the pleading— the loss of hope. it’s not the first time she’s heard it ( the doctor’s apology, & the haunted, watery gasp that follows ) & it’s certainly not going to be the last, but each time she does, each & every goddamned time. it’s always the s a m e. from the way her hands shake where she has them clasped atop her lap, to the way her shoulders stiffen to accommodate to the way her body locks in place, as if to brace herself for the impact of the weight, the sorrow. she knows the pain of a doctor’s unwelcome news, & her heart is impossible in the way it hands out pieces of herself to each family that shares the experience.
she’s ever silent in her grief, in the wetness of her eyes, & her hands tremble where she reaches for her cell. daunted fingers are what wake her screen, missing once, twice, three times where they swipe the pattern & fail. on the fourth, she breathes deep & clenches her lower lip between shaky teeth. she’s teetering on the edges when she finally reaches his name ( & for a moment, she finds herself spitting where ‘ v ‘ sits so late in the alphabet ) but that’s as far as she gets before she realizes why. why it’s his face she sees first in her mind, imagines first on her lips, his arms she wants holding her tight.
it’s the same reason she finds herself needing him there so fiercely, that she finds herself unable to dial.
iv.
she thinks of his fingers first. his hands— his lovely, lovely hands. from the way they hold a cigarette to the way they hold her hair. the way they stroke through & stop, the way they feel rubbing circles into the skin of her shoulder, how they hold onto her own hands with their fingers interlaced. then his arms, where they hold his guitar to strum beauty through the notes, the way they hold her when they’re sitting by the window, or on her couch & between her sheets. she thinks of the broad of his shoulders, the way they feel when she’s pressed tight against him, the perfect slope for her head to rest & her lips to press kisses. gentle, peaceful little things that she could stretch across the plane of his shoulders, down the reach of his back. she thinks of his hair, softly tickling where he rests his head on her thighs, the strands soft & feather light where she pets, the curve of his lips where he smiles, the affectionate, subtle thing he reserves just for her. the way his nose crinkles, in both distaste & in delight where he laughs & where he chuckles, grimaces & frowns. she thinks of the wrinkle on his brows, when he’s deep in thought & pondering, the smooth lines of his face when he sleeps. from the endless length of his legs, the way they continue on in stretches where he stands so much taller above her, & yet the way he ducks down to listen, how he curves around her to befit her, the way he accompanies himself to accompany her, moulding & shaping himself until he becomes———
it isn’t until another nurse taps her on shoulder that she realizes her break’s over & her coffee’s gone cold.
v.
she’s staring at the bottle & something inside her aches. something horrible & longing & quietly soothing as she reaches not for the drink, but the small bag full of powder beside it. she holds it there, in the palm of her hand, arm balanced on the rest of her thigh where her leg sits, & she thinks. she thinks about her childhood, where loneliness accompanied her like the closest of friends, the way it clung to her in desperation where it begged to not be left alone. ( like her, because of her. ) or of her adolescence, where not loneliness found her, but this time a people who took the innocence the loneliness had sheltered, moulding her into something different. something dark.
she thinks of sleepless nights & shaking hands, of blurred faces & wandering hand. of the numerous identities she could never name again, & of the men & women alike who held her, only to break her where they gripped. she thinks of loneliness, but then she thinks of suffocation, of too many people & too many hands. she wonders which one she prefers, & staring down at the bag, she thinks of something kinder. kinder to herself, & kinder to her future. she thinks of the warm hands that hold her, not to press, but only to help, the way they tug the bag from her hold, prying the bottle from her fingers only to tuck her closer when she breaks. she wants him, she wants him so bad, & she hates herself for the way she does.
in the morning, as she pulls the bag & bottle closer, she’s certain she’ll hate herself for the way she doesn’t dial all the more.
& the one time they do something about it.
she’s sitting with her knees tucked in, her head resting snug atop them, the arm of the couch behind her comfortably caging her in. she’s got a blanket wrapped tight upon her shoulders, & it’s to his voice she finds herself drifting. singing her to sleep, the sneak of the man, that even when she’d insisted she’d be fine to stay up & keep him company, he’d put her to sleep instead. she’s close now, so close, where his voice croons softly in her ear, & where her body goes lax in her lethargy. she could drift off then, & wake up when she did, but before she can, she can’t help but wonder. it’s quiet now, where his hands have stopped playing, & his voice has stopped singing. he had some papers to go over, s’what he’d said, & she’s certain she’s put her guitar aside so he could rise to fetch them, but before he can, she stops him.
with an outstretch of her hands, & a quiet call of his name—— ‘ vince. ’ she pleads for him. & it’s so soft, she wonders if he’s heard her. but he does stop, from where her hand has caught the edge of his shirt, the fingers holding firm, to the way his eyes meet hers when she raises her head. she looks at him, really looks, & for a moment, she WONDERS. ‘ i think— ’ i think this might be love.
‘ official—?? official what?? official best friends?? pet pals?? roommates?? if so, it’s a no, no & no to all. just ‘cause he acts like he doesn’t have a home doesn’t mean he actually doesn’t have one. ’
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