I didn't really think much 'bout it at the time, but after Scissure.. I uh-- I never slept in anythin' bigger than a twin bed. Guess, in a sense, I lucked out. Never had to roll over to an empty side of the bed-- her side.

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@hxhansen
I didn't really think much 'bout it at the time, but after Scissure.. I uh-- I never slept in anythin' bigger than a twin bed. Guess, in a sense, I lucked out. Never had to roll over to an empty side of the bed-- her side.
who can face the sea and not inherit its loneliness?
the difference between in-laws and outlaws--
outlaws are wanted.
It takes more than just a memory to make me cry.
he took her in his arms, he carried her ghost.
so we’ll drift just fine
Lyrics inspired graphics (3/?)
└ You - Keaton Henson (x)
If you must speak, speak every word as though it were unique.
Afraid of Everyone - The National
She was here, in this overly crowded bar, near those few tables located a little further back, and he’d seen her. Those dark auburn tresses with a natural yet subtle curl that always managed to framed her face so perfectly. Her lips had been drawn back into that widened smile that often eclipsed softened features when she lost herself completely in sudden elation. Regardless of the commotion packed bar scene brought forth, Herc could hear fainted titter that escaped her lips right before an infectious laughter took hold. It snagged at memories intertwined with such a beautiful sound. Quickened snippets from his past, that moved like an old reel of film played far too many times that it somehow retained a sense of wear within its playback.
Touch leisurely grazed across the back of his hand, again.. again.. again. Cerulean flecked irises let attentions plummet from their fixated point and instead watch rather intently as masculine digits smoothed over flesh. It didn’t feel like it should, it felt different, as if wasn’t his. Quickly he blinked, hoping it would bring a sense of focus. It did the complete opposite. The conversations surrounding him grew louder yet softer.. words that once held familiarity contorted into a likes of something Herc had never heard before. Defined line of jaw clenched firmly as if that had the potential to ground him. Give him a sense of bearings on which to solidly grip onto. Pinched row of enamel gritted against one another involuntarily.. once.. twice.. why was he so thirsty?
Lips felt completely desiccated. Tongue yearned for something to wash over it like an ocean wave breaches against the sand riddled shore. Attentions shot upwards, taking in the sights of a never-ending horizon. Just miles and miles of sea. Helplessly drowning within them, yet lungs weren’t filling up with saltwater; no, it wasn’t nearly heavy enough to be water. It was oxygen or more appropriately a rush of musty air infused with the scents of overly priced perfumes and clove cigarettes. Herc blinked and suddenly found himself back within the throngs of nightlife. Only now, he was standing. He’d taken upright balance yet somehow it still felt suspended as the Australian scanned across all those various faces that surrounded him, for hers.
Sudden chill enveloped his well-knitted frame as the eldest Hansen came to realize he was no longer inside poorly illuminated bar. Giving a few quickened blinks as he desperately tried to tether himself to something, anything. Sights didn’t dare look upward for fear of being engulfed by the stars themselves. Herc ran sprawled out digits through slightly mussed hair, it felt fluid. Wayward notions tugged at him, whispering for the man to remember, to remember that he’d seen her. Needed to find her. Needed to walk. Follow. Brusquely denim clad lower limbs took off into a rather hurried pace. Abraded work boots falling along the cement with no real path to head, no sense of direction, yet fueled by an unwavering certainty. Soon it didn’t even feel like he was walking at all, more like floating as if suspended like a speck of dust.
Wasn’t until his shoulder was abruptly collided into that thirty-five year old even felt grounded. "Christ, maybe watch the fuck where ya goin’.." Footfalls ceased their movement as upper torso started, stopped, started to turn towards those aggression laced words. Suddenly another pair of hands came down across natural dip of his shoulder blades, "OI! If those next couple’a words outta ya mouth aren’t offerin’ to buy the next shout, s’ya who best shove off mate.." Although ex-airman turned PPDC ranger didn’t quite catch the rest of the duo’s exchange, which surely was just Scott ripping the other guy a new one, Herc only looked up when his younger brother’s visage stepped in front of him. Lips were moving but all auditory senses picked up was a ringing that was reminiscent of Iraq.
Hand extended upwards, fingers poised with impreciseness. "She went that way, she went.. Charlie’s gonna be so.. s’gonna.." Words paused for a moment, ”..if we hurry, should be able to catch up..” Dilated pupils had long been glossed over since he first recognized her inside crowded bar. It was a sheen finish that hadn’t quite run, yet as Herc stood motionless debating which way he’d seen her go while Scott desperately tried to rein his older brother back in, that steadfast hold was starting to weaken. "I have to go get her, Scott.. she’s expectin’ me.. Angela, she expects.."
I got in fight once, back when I first enlisted in RAAF, with this massive brute of a guy.. and he said, "I'm gonna mop the floor with your face, Hansen!" I said, "You'll be sorry!" That seemed to only piss him off even more so he snapped back, "Oh yeah? Why's that!?"
I said, "Well, you won't be able to get the corners very well."
That’s my son you got there. My son.