Summary:
Martyās in that gulf now. The hallway that chasms down the house, littered with glass and smashed picture frames. Green tendrils crunch under his boots, grey dust and plaster coating his sweat-damp skin. He doesn't belong here, alongside the poison-bright blooms of Rust's knowledge, Rustās regrets. It's too much for him. He's going to get fucking eaten.
But maybe he wants that. Maybe he wants teeth and blood and something vicious. Maybe this haze of guilt and power is the most alive heās ever been. Maybe it's allowed him to see. āAnd that's where you and I... get it wrong. That's the gulf between us... what I expect and what you mean. That what you're getting at?ā
āMarty, I think we're in real danger of understanding each other,ā Rust drawls, and drops the tickling touch of the plant, resting a palm on Martyās hammering chest.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/64107460























