PAIN HAD ALWAYS BEEN FAZIL’S BEST FRIEND ━ a sickly man , consumed by despair and RAGE , so much so it infested his bloodstream , seeping onto his skin and laced itself within his touch. PAIN clutched onto fazil’s hand for dear life , it made home with him , breathed down his neck , and refused to leave no matter how often fazil PLEADED for him to. pain became his shadow before he even had his own , reminding him of the guilt he harbored , holding it over his head like strings on a puppet. pain became fazil , his despair and rage becoming his own ; it was all he could see in the mirror ━ no longer was he the curly-headed boy with a bright smile and his future ahead of him , but a man with dark circles that rivaled the black nothingness of the night , and a mind that succumbed to misery. the solution ? three lines of crushed up morphine , just to get by. he wasn’t proud , if anything , he felt ashamed , fruitless , and above all , WEAK. but if it meant he could hide from the devilish man who twisted his reality and haunted his dreams ? so be it. with the look on jessica’s face , he suspects the worst ━ does she notice ? is she ashamed of him , too ? his fears are confirmed as he listens to her speak , trying to hide the wince that begged his features to appear. his head working double time to come up with a suitable reply , one that DOESN’T showcase his hurt. he sees no point in hiding the truth , jessica is too smart to be fooled by his shaky lies, ❝ well , it’s five o’clock somewhere right ? are you sure you’re not just jealous you’re not taking part in this, too ? ❞ he jokingly raises his eyebrow , holding a playful smile long enough to avert her concern. why couldn’t she ignore it , turn a blind eye , and look the other way just like everyone else ? he knew the answer to that question , but playing coy and sipping the sweet bliss of ignorance was better than choking on the truth. ❝ it’s art history , and it’s the exact reason i ( need ) want to be high , thank you very much.❞ after all , he would rather be recognized as a bad student than what he really was. he keeps eye contact with her , grey eyes going soft , as if they were praying for her to drop it. and luckily , she does , just for a second , but fazil sees it as a big enough window of opportunity to jump through. ❝ i’m pretty sure it’s somewhere in my closet , or actually i might have it on display as a trophy , i’m not quite sure …❞ his voice trails off , returning along with the company of a flirtatious smirk , ❝ you could always come over sometime and find out , though. ❞
AS A CHILD , YOU’RE TAUGHT MONSTERS LIVE UNDER BEDS OR WITHIN CLOSETS : your parents tell you not to be afraid , tell you there’s no such thing as boogie - monsters or jabberwocks . as you grow older , you realise the true monsters live in the arms of strangers , or the clink of empty beer bottles , or the buzz in your bloodstream . it’s those impulses , dark & twisted , gradually fogging up your mind & suffocating who you are , that are most dangerous . even someone like jessica , all light - hearted & goofy , has had her fair share of battles , can sympathize with what it feels like to live with those creatures ━ despair , hopelessness , grief ━ and be threatened to be swallowed whole by the weight of it . even someone like jessica , all bruised & battered on the inside , knows the light at the end of tunnels is often only a hallucination . but in this story , jessica is untouchable , immortal . in this story , jessica swears she will not let it become her ━ this is how you save yourself . ❛ i mean . . . you’re not wrong . ❜ eyes narrow slightly as she studies his features , studies the way he plays it off : just like she would , just like she always does . ( it’s almost annoying , when she can identify mirrored reflections . ) but she also knows better than to question it further . she’s said enough though , enough to express herself in her own silent way ; but part of her wants to reach out , to say : it’s not judgment talking , it’s just because i care ━ except jess has never been one for sentiments , never been one for pats on the back or comfort . her heart doesn’t understand the language , doesn’t comprehend the translation of tenderness . ( she’s been on her own for so long , she’s forgotten how to feel human . ) she scoffs , ❛ i won’t be jealous if you get caught . ❜ her tone takes on something melodic , sing - song attempts at childish banter . she’s never been one for walking the straight & narrow , but even now , warm hues keep vigilant everytime someone rounds a corner ━ because jessica delaunchy would have his back either way , and that’s the most commitment she’s ever expressed towards a person . ❛ eh , i guess i don’t blame you ; finger - painting sounds more interesting . ❜ she’s never been one for being in touch with her creative side , unless , of course , it was in the form of elaborate ways to cause some excitement or creatively conducted escape plans , and then she was the michaelangelo of cape coral . the firm line of her lips that once belonged to apprehension now pulls wide across dainty features : hook , bait , sinker . ( he wins , this time . ) ❛ a trophy ? aw , did you keep a trophy to remind you of me : the best you’ve ever had ? ❜ coy , suggestive , even jocular : this is jessica in her element . she gestures towards him , an index finger pointed . ❛ okay , you see ━ that kinda’ sounds like i’m gonna’ lose more clothes though ? just get your own clothes & stop trying to steal mine . ❜ not that she minded . it’s a very appealing invitation . ❛ very cute though , very sneaky , i’ll give it a maybe . ❜
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