brooks straightens his posture, bracing himself as he waits for the genesis of a fight. his mind’s eye was already watching them scream at each other outside this stupid club, making a mess of a scene. but the exhale of relief when she clarifies that no, this wasn’t her boyfriend, is so noticeable that brooks feels his face turn hot. his mouth parted in protest—ready to speak on her dignity—but emilia had already turned the page, already moved on. all of his arguments withered inside his mouth, lips closing. he was looking at her now as if she were the back of his own hand. there’s no question in his mind, remembering exactly who emilia was, that she had more dignity than the best of them. “ he’s an idiot, you know. ” it's a thought vocalized. accidental, but not any less true. not that brooks had came out looking much better, even without their history considered. “ you deserve a better first date than this, ” the slightest slur of his speech on certain consonants, “ without a fuckin’ entourage. ” ‘thank you’ from her mouth strikes right through him. he had to get it together. brooks worked to remind himself that emilia following him out here meant nothing. any company was better than the imitation scott disick she’d left inside. another exhale when she clarifies what he could never ask—that she hadn’t dated since. something inside his chest loosens, a knot he didn’t know he had been carrying. their breakup had triggered a sequence of unfollowing, deleting, and archiving. digital absence didn't make letting go any easier, but it gave the illusion of finality. still, it came with consequences. it left brooks with no window into her life, much less her love life. “ i haven’t really either. ” there was one girl, a fleeting flare, but it had always flickered in and out. a few matchbox lovers was far from a relationship, not when he had the blazing inferno of emilia to compare it to. “ dating … ” he trails off, knowing nothing he was about to say was revolutionary, “ i don't know, it’s hard. ” the biting cold had begun to seep into his bones, stutter his thoughts. and while the last twenty minutes had done a lot to peel back the layer of fog from his mind, brooks knew he had a long way to go. he looks down the main drag, four streetlights away was the yellowed-awning 24-hour diner brooks had come to haunt when he came back home. " look—i'm headed down to bernie's, if you want to come. ” the question feels like he just laid his heart on the table, but he fought tooth and nail for a tone of nonchalance. “ but i get it if you need to get back, ” he looks behind her, pointing at the club entrance, “ ... to finish the night up. ”
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
2087
prguitarman
