*It’s taking me a while to post Chapter 9. So, here’s a little sneak peek at Héctor’s (Horror’s) Diary. He doesn’t consider himself much of a writer, there’s no time to waste on flowery prose when you’re struggling to survive. But he writes to remember. He writes to remember things he swears he wants to forget.
*There are also some hints about events that take place later on.
*It might be a little rough around the edges here and there. It's a bit old.
Human! Horrordust One-Shot. (Bonezuela! MTT)
It's that soft smile, barely peeking through the corners of your lips.
It's the dark locks of hair embracing one another, curling into each other, and spilling across your face.
The way you ask me for a light. And I say, "Sure, here you go." And then, you tell me to wait, as my finger rests just above the sparkwheel. And I ask you what you're doing. And you tell me you're watching the flames dance, along with the wind. And you make me stand. And I do. And you stare at it for a second too long. Then, without rushing, you let the tip of your cigarette kiss the flame, before kissing it with your own lips. And you make me wish that instead of a man, I were a cigarette.
The way you say my name, and repeat it over and over, as if I hadn't heard. The same way you do with your favorite movie scenes—the way you savor the lines and roll them around on your tongue, again and again and again. It's contagious, this infatuation. You can only look up at me so many times, asking with your eyes, "What do you think?" And I used to think nothing, until it was the repetition of your presence, the familiarity of it, that grew so intense.
And we lay together, not because I want to, but because I have no choice. And you ask me if I’ve ever dreamed of anything beyond this world. And I told you that, if death could count as something beyond this world, then I’ve dreamed of that. And you looked at me. You stared, and told me that there are things beyond death that I don’t know. And I felt hope—for something so foolish.
It's the way your clothes always hang a little crooked on your shoulders. The way your skin glows red at the slightest touch. The way you whisper your words, close enough so I can feel your breath, drawing out every vowel for me to hear. It's the way you always leave your closet door open. It's the way your throat moves when you gulp down a glass of water. It's the smell of oil that always coats your skin
The way you came to me, pleading that day. And distress painted a picture on your face I hesitated to call beautiful. And you placed a needle in my hands, and pretended it was a rosary. And you told me to find a place where I could soothe you, one I could inject with You. And you allowed me to touch your skin, to drive metal into your veins as you exhaled a sigh of relief, tainted with a panic I’ve never seen from you—a fear I had only witnessed within myself.
And you thanked me, and I realized we were both born to starve as you chased something you would never get.
And maybe in that chase, at least I wasn’t alone.
And that day you doomed me.
The car came to rest on the shoulder of the highway, right at the end of Boyacá Avenue.
What do you mean, you didn't mean anything by it.
The entire ride, Héctor had remained a ghost—not a word, not a glance.
It's what friends do, right?
His eyes fixed on the road, turned inward, in anticipation of this very moment.
Shut the fuck up, you know that's not true
Diego sat tight, watching closely as Héctor got out of the car. For a second, he wondered if he was about to be abandoned like a stray.
You want to make fun of me, don't you?
The thought didn’t last; Héctor hurried to the other side and swung his door open.
Is it funny that I'm a faggot?
The wind hit him as if he’d been drenched in cold water.
That I want to drown in your skin
It brushed against the sweat stubbornly clinging to his skin, licking at the red rows streaking his neck.
About how much you want to mock me
A million questions flashed through his mind.
Fuck, I like that. I even like that.
Why hadn’t he worn a shirt?
Why had the drive taken so long?
Why had he been brought here?
Even trying to annoy me, you please me
Everything you do pleases me
A faint dot of light that pulsed, the rhythmic beating of a heart, barely noticeable in the distance.
I want to curl up and die. This is disgusting. Why do you do this to me
The red hues spilled across the green grass, swallowing its luster in a thick coat of black as it fed on its vigor.
And then, it wasn’t a dot.
It extended its tendrils toward the sky, curling around itself in a lonesome dance, inching toward them for a partner.
The flames raced fiercely toward the edge of the highway, so close, he could feel their heat brush against him, enveloping him in a tight, almost oppressive embrace.
So close, so close. It sent a chill down his spine.
Glancing sideways, Diego’s breath caught as he stood witness to the mirror of his fascination, reflected upon Héctor’s face. That same obsession he found in the rising flames, that same crushing heat. Héctor gazed at the fire through Diego, and wondered how close he could get before it burned.
let me swallow you, please
One that stretched too long, as Diego dissected the look in his gaze, tracing it back to the blaze that brought it to light.
And just as the fire raced down the mountain, feeding on the Capin Melao, Diego cupped his jaw,
I hate the way I don't hate you.
vaporwave
kaledo-art
origamiaround
titsay
dededos
dailybridgerton
janainaart
