ใ๐งใ โI KNOW! I- I fucking know that! Okay?! I- Iโm just-โฆโ Like she said; not good. The worst part was, she knew every word that Westin was saying was true, even if she couldnโt really help herself right now. Sheโd already dealt with the immediate consequences, and now they couldnโt seem to let go of that at all! And not to mention how guilt-trippy she probably came across as. Socially inept as she still may have been, she was better than this. She was better than someone who threw a pity party whenever something went wrong.
This environment that sheโd created simply wasnโt good for her - for either of them. She wanted so badly to use this rare moment of vulnerability to be able to open up to someone else, butโฆ the notion was soured by the scorn that she couldnโt help but see, even if there was none. She pulled her legs to her chest almost protectively, eyes cringing shut again. She didnโt want to be here. She didnโt want to be here. She didnโt want to be.
โฆ no. No, she could still fix this. It justโฆ wasnโt the right time. The last throes of her fury, the corpse of her pent-up rage briefly reanimating itself now lay still once again. She could think a little more clearly - but it didnโt make the air around her any less oppressive. She had to say something. The silence sheโd manufactured already seeped into her veins - and as she so thought, bringing with it the slow and painful death of a friendship.
โโฆ things just arenโt good right now, West. I- I dunno what the fuck to tell you, I- I dunno what you wanna hear. Shit, just-โฆ itโs like every bad thought Iโve ever had just, fucking- getsโฆ right fuckinโ on top of me. And-โฆโ She seeped in a sharp breath - the same one that a pained lion might take as a hunter raises its knife. The hardest admission for her, yet one she knew was inevitable - and perhaps even necessary.
โโฆ you canโt help me. I- I donโt think so, not anymore, not-โฆ not after this. Iโm sorry. It-โฆ it was my fault for- for pushing you away. For- for acting like this.โ At last, her head dips the whole way into her curled legs - her last few words muffled, but just clear enough to comprehend, just audible enough through the sting in her throat for the anguish in her speech to be understood.
โโฆ you should go. Just-โฆ just leave me, okay? I canโt do this.โ
Every bad thought she'd ever had. Yeah, they'd witnessed that. Through screams and sobs, it seemed they'd heard every bad thing that had ever befallen her, every scar and bruise and still-healing wound. In the midst of everything, they hadnโt had the time to process it---truly grasp the gravity of everything, what had led her to that outburst in the first place---before they had barred their teeth to bite back. The truth had not returned clearly for them to look as a whole, as stingy bitterness hoarded their emotional availability all for itself, leaving little room for anything that wasn't in the here and now of their own thoughts and emotions.
But perhaps that was why they needed time away.
You can't help me. They realized now that they couldn't, no. Not like this. A sting of guilt pierced through then, sharp as freshly polished knife. They had wanted to help, they remembered so. Could this have turned out differently, had they not erupted with their own anger and tears? Theyโd always been quick to react, and quicker still to lash out. The urge to comfort the other as she dipped her head into her knees remained, though West hardly felt they had the right to at this point.
West might not have ended the conversation on their own; rarely one to back down from argument themself, to seek time and space for recollection instead of pouring everything that they had then and there. But when Alex suggested that they should go, West found little inclination to disagree.
โYeah,โ not backing down, not obliging, but agreeing: they needed to put space between them, if they wished to avoid the shattered glass that lay scattered beneath their feet. West shifted in their seat, casted a glance towards the open tent flaps.ย โIโll, uh...โ theyโll what?ย The teenager cleared their throat.ย โIโll leave you to it.โ
West rose from their seat to retrieve their top hat from the workable. It occurred to them that this was the Mirror House's back room---it was Alex who should be leaving; this was where they worked---but the words died in their throat. One last glance over their shoulder, by the gaping tent flaps: their friend, curled on the floor and tearful. They wondered if this would be the last they saw of her.ย
And the part of them that still cared, fiercely and unconditionally, shriveled at the very thought.
The subtlest sound of their hat resting atop their head, and then their lean frame was swallowed by the golden-bright hues of the circus.
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
janainaart
discoholicmusic
jacobvanloon