* / 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 .

daniel wylie, xxvi. and in the end will i feel proud, that i grit my teeth and followed the damn crowd?

[scftspoken]

—   daniel alistair wylie , penned by mira for nepofm .

introduction . established connections . wanted connections .

[scftspoken]

laylasfm​:

“   i   honestly   think   that's   what   she   was   expecting   from   me   ,   ”   she   sighed   ,   before   letting   out   a   laugh   with   the   seriousness   that   the   other   managed   to   put   in   his   words   .   once   again   layla   needed   to   clean   up   her   brother's   messes   and   after  all   this   time   the   student   was   used   to   it   .    “   no  ,   no   ,   i'm   fine   .   she   freaked   me   out   at   first   but   when   i   understood   what   it   was   about   ,   i   even   think   she   was   cool   about   it   compared   to   some   other   girls   .   ”   she   remembered   having   to   take   a   girl   out   for   some   air   and   water   ,   she   was   sobbing   and   crying   on   her   shoulder   .   zane  could   be   a   real   jerk   sometimes   ,   especially   when   it   came   to   girls   .    “   please   ,   you   know   you   couldn't   bore   me   even   if   you   tried   ,   ”   she   smiled   .   layla   ,   on   the   other   hand   ,   loved   the   holidays   .   decorating   her   apartment   ,   making   gingerbread   houses   ,   buying   and   making   herself   gifts   for   all   her   family   and   friends   .    “   there's   always   a   place   for   you   at   our   table   .   some   guests   will   be   great   ,   as   zane   doesn't   know   if   he'll   make   it   in   time   for   christmas   .   so   we're   going   to   need   all   the   extra   hands   we   can   get   .   amari   will   even   bring   her   new   boyfriend   ,   daddy   will   eat   him   alive   .   ”

a  warmth  fills  daniel’s  chest  at  layla’s  easy  assurance  that  he  has  a  place  of  belonging  ,  even  if  that  place  does  not  lie  in  his  own  family  home  .  the  question  he  asked  was  not  a  genuine  one  ,  which  he  knows  they  both  understand  –  neither  of  them  has  a  penchant  for  abandoning  their  family  ,  even  if  that  trait  is  cause  for  frequent  heartache  .  he  will  be  with  his  family  during  the  holidays  ,  just  like  he  has  every  other  year  .  but  still  ,  it's  nice  to  indulge  in  the  fantasy  .  “  she  will  ?  i  didn’t  realize  things  were  that  serious  between  them  .  how  do  we  feel  about  him  ?  do  i  need  to  save  him  from  mr  .  khalil  or  do  i  need  to  participate  in  his  untimely  and  tragic  demise ?  ”

[scftspoken]

lovebcmbs​:

it’s  just  a  lot  of  bittersweetness  ,  a  lot  of  blaming  herself  and  knowing  daniel  did  absolutely  nothing  to  ever  deserve  the  way  she  treats  him  ;  to  run  after  her  ,  to  worry  about  her  because  she’s  not  coming  home  and  it’s  already  4  am  .  and  no  matter  what  she  does  ,  she  will  never  be  able  to  push  him  away  so  the  real  question  is  ,  why  does  she  keep  trying  ?  he  was  right  .  they’re  family,  they’re  supposed  to  have  each  other’s  backs  .  he  always  has  her  . always  will  .  she  could  yell  ,  weep  and  beg  him  to  leave  her  alone  except  it’s  nothing  she  truly  wants  .  he’s  the  one  SAFE  thing  she  has  left  ,  the  one  thing  she  will  always  have  . it’s  easy  .  it’s  easy  to  force  people  to  leave  before  you  are  forced  to  losethem  over  things  you  can’t  control  .  constantly  waking  up  with  a  fear  of  loss,  watching  people  surrounding  you  and  all  your  mind  is  thinking  about  how  long  until  they’re  gone  ,  until  they  leave  you.  she  shouldn’t  feel  this  way  with  a  family  ,  with  someone  who  loves  her  no  matter  how  badly  she  fucks  up  ,  with  someone  who  is  destined  to  be  by  your  side  forever  ,  right  ? same  thing  all  over  again  .  she’s  hitting  her  lowest  ,  he’s  here  to  get  her  up  .  daniel’s  arm  on  her  back  is  comforting  ,  an  act  that  reminds  her  how  safe  she  is  around  him  yet  choses  to  push  this  away  .  a  soft  laugh  ,  surprisingly  —  a  genuine  one  .  a  cold  air  hits  her  face  as  they  step  out  from  a  warm  place  into  the  cooler  weather  ,  zoya’s  gaze  wandering  around  .  usually  the  night  would  end  with  so  many  different  scenarios  ,  leaving  the  bar  with  anyone  but  her  brother  .  it’s  new  for  her  .  "  i  don’t  think  i  can  sneak  you  into  dad’s  yacht  and  steal  his  expensive  whisky  ,  so  what  now  ?  "  a  lighthearted  joke  ;  maybe  a  result  of  too  many  drinks  or  the  guilt  that’s  been  coming  over  to  her  stomach  ever  since  the  conversation  about  their  mother  was  brought  up  .  she’s  aware  of  this  bizzare  picture  ;the  wylie  siblings  almost  cuddled  up  ,  an  evening  without  screaming  arguments  in  the  middle  of  the  bar  .  definitely  something  that  would  blow  up  the  internet  if  everyone  around  them  wasn’t  too  drunk  to  even  think  of  capturing  the  moment  in  a  picture  .

daniel  marvels  at  the  lightness  in  zoya’s  demeanor  .  this  carefree  tone  of  voice  is  not  one  he  is  used  to  hearing  from  his  sister  ,  and  at  first  he  doesn’t  quite  believe  it  ⸻  any  second  now  ,  she  will  remember  herself  ,  tone  turning  bitter  and  words  turning  acid  .  he  doesn't  remember  the  last  time  she's  looked  at  him  like  this  ,  either  .  he  hopes  she  will  forgive  him  for  staring  :  the  corners  of  his  mouth  turning  ever  so  slightly  upward  as  he  makes  a  furtive  attempt  to  commit  the  image  to  memory  .  the  silence  between  them  drags  on  for  a  beat  ,  before  daniel  remembers  zoya  has  posed  a  question  .  he  hasn’t  drunk  quite  as  much  as  she  has  ,  but  he  still  chooses  to  blame  what  he  says  next  on  the  alcohol  :  not  just  the  words  themselves  ,  but  the  dangerous  hope  they  are  infused  with  .  “  how  about  you  crash  at  my  place  ,  tonight  ?  i  can’t  promise  top-shelf  liquor  ,  but  we  can  order  take-out  and  put  on  some  christmas  movie  .  unless  you’re  too  cool  for  the  muppet  christmas  carol  ,  nowadays  .  ”

[scftspoken]

harveyisms​:

“GOD!   people   online   are   so   mean.”   brows   furrowing   as   she   once   again   finds   herself   in   a   spiral   of   reading   through   the   thousands   of   comments   left   on   her   instagram   posts,   “have   you   ever   had   to   disable   comments   before?”   brown   orbs   still   fixated   on   the   screen,   “it’s like…i   know   i   should…stop   looking.   but   i   can’t.   i   physically   can’t.”   a   slight   exaggeration   but   that   was   this   generation’s   problem   with   social   media,   “i   may   need   you   to   take   this   away   from   me…at   least   for   the   rest   of   the   night.   maybe   forever…TBD.”

“  social  media  isn’t  real  .  ”  the  dry  retort  is  paired  with  a  dismissive  gesture  and  a  roll  of  the  eyes  .  “  bunch  of  lowlifes  who  have  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  sit  around  commenting  on  other  people’s  lives  all  day  .  you  really  want  that  kind  of  person  to  dictate  your  emotional  state  ?  ”  daniel  can't  even  remember  the  last  time  he  looked  at  instagram  .  his  phone  is  currently  free  of  social  media  apps  ,  and  he  can’t  say  it’s  been  a  great  loss  .  therefore  ,  harvey's  confession  is  both  amusing  and  slightly  unsettling  to  him  –  it  sounds  like  plain  old  addiction  ,  to  him  .  her  suggestion  is  all  the  encouragement  he  needs  to  stage  an  impromptu  intervention  .  “  happy  to  .  ”  with  that  ,  the  device  is  unceremoniously  plucked  from  the  woman’s  hands  .  “  do  i  need  to  put  it  under  lock  and  key  ,  too  ,  or  will  you  behave  ?  ”

[scftspoken]

@siadai​

daniel’s  phone  is  lying  face-down  on  his  desk  .  the  black  rectangle  has  proven  frustratingly  indifferent  to  the  look  of  contempt  it  has  had  directed  at  it  for  the  past  several  minutes  .  for  such  a  small  device  ,  it  has  caused  a  disproportionate  amount  of  trouble  today  .  of  course  ,  the  ire  it  is  receiving  from  daniel  is  undeserved  —  he  is  well  aware  that  the  sole  blame  lies  with  him  for  looking  at  the  thing  during  a  status  update  meeting  (  even  if  the  meeting  had  been  effectively  inconsequential  and  excruciatingly  boring  )  ,  especially  on  one  of  the  rare  occasions  that  his  father  joined  such  a  meeting  .  once  the  screen  lit  up  ,  daniel  had  not  needed  to  check  the  name  on  the  display  ,  knowing  before  knowing  ,  stomach  turning  with  the  volatile  mix  of  emotions  that  accompanies  lightning’s  texts  :  affection  ,  annoyance  ,  excitement  ,  dread  .  (  texting  lighting  is  never  just  texting  lightning  .  it  is  :  throwing  darts  at  a  board  while  blindfolded  ,  taking  a  test  without  any  preparation  ,  playing  an  unending  game  of  poker  .  nebulous  intentions  ,  endless  bluffing  .  who  will  call  ?  who  will  fold  ?  he’s  never  thought  of  himself  as  a  gambling  man  ,  but  he  must  admit  ⸻  there  is  a  thrill  in  it  .  ) when  the  senior  wylie  asked  him  a  question  ,  daniel  was  a  deer  in  the  headlights  ,  thoughts  abruptly  pulled  from  his  phone  ,  humiliation  creeping  up  on  him  with  every  new  silent  second  .  his  father  didn’t  get  angry  .  he  never  does  .  that  might  be  the  worst  part  ,  daniel  thinks  idly  :  that  he's  apparently  not  even  worth  the  breath  it  takes  to  express  anger  .  his  father  simply  gives  him  a  look  ,  and  daniel  is  eight  years  old  again  ,  flinching  under  that  eternal  gaze  of  weary  annoyance  .  it’s  different  this  time  ,  though  .  aside  from  the  all-too-familiar  shame  ,  the  confrontation  has  left  something  else  brewing  underneath  his  skin  .  something  much  like  anger  . inviting  lightning  to  meet  him  inside  was  a  mistake  ,  he  thinks  suddenly  .  they  should  have  met  outside  ,  on  neutral  ground  ,  in  a  restaurant  or  a  park  —  anywhere  but  here  .  here  ,  where  the  suffocating  memories  of  all  his  worst  deeds  have  free  rein  ,  tainting  lightning  irrevocably  .  or  maybe  it’s  the  other  way  around  ,  and  he  does  not  want  lightning  to  see  what  this  place  has  done  to  him  .  he  feels  both  less  and  more  like  himself  here  —  an  uglier  ,  sharper  mirror  image  . this  is  how  lightning  finds  him  ,  eventually  :  eyes  and  hands  glued  once  again  to  his  phone  ,  shooting  off  a  final  email  ,  fingers  not  stopping  their  movement  when  he  senses  the  other’s  presence  .  “  lightning  .  good  .  ”  the  words  are  too  brusque  —  they’re  an  absent-minded  acknowledgement  ,  not  a  true  greeting  .  he  sounds  like  the  self-entitled  son  of  a  ceo  ,  because  in  this  building  ,  that  is  who  he  is  .  pleasantries  are  unnecessary  .  confidence  is  a  birthright  .  (  or  maybe  it's  nothing  more  than  a  cheap  facade  :  but  if  he  pretends  for  long  enough  ,  who  can  tell  the  difference  ?  )  it  is  not  ,  however  ,  who  he  is  with  lightning  ;  so  he  looks  up  ,  tries  again  —  “  i  trust  you  were  on  your  best  behavior  with  jonah  .  or  whatever  passes  for  it  .  ”  ⸻  but  even  this  comes  out  too  sharp  ,  more  chiding  than  teasing  .  christ  ,  he  sounds  like  his  father  . it  is  at  this  point  that  daniel  reaches  a  decision  .  later  ,  he  may  come  to  think  of  this  moment  as  an  error  in  judgment  ,  perhaps  caused  by  sleep  deprivation  ,  or  a  simple  but  inexplicable  bout  of  irrationality  .  it  doesn't  matter  .  he's  never  been  one  to  make  excuses  for  past  behavior  :  whatever  his  reasons  may  be  ,  his  actions  are  his  own  ,  and  he  will  accept  their  consequences  .  but  —  he  is  getting  ahead  of  himself  .  in  this  moment  ,  here  with  lightning  ,  he  does  the  following  :  he  stands  abruptly  ,  resolution  apparent  in  his  body  language  —  spine  straight  ,  shoulders  pushed  back  ,  eyes  locked  firmly  with  lightning's  own  .  there  is  even  a  hint  of  something  akin  to  a  smile  on  his  face  .  “  i  know  i  promised  lunch  ,  but  are  you  actually  hungry  ?  or  are  you  up  for  a  small  detour  ?  ”

[scftspoken]

lunafm​:

things were pretty awkward and unresolved between daniel and luna, especially after that weird arranged date that their parents had set up for them. she had hoped she would never have to run into him again, but alas, they had far too many mutual friends for that to happen. “do i know you from somewhere? i swear, it’s on the tip of my tongue..” she began to joke, making sure it was clear enough for daniel to know that she was messing around. @scftspoken​

in  daniel's  defense  :  he  is  not  looking  for  a  fight  .  as  soon  as  he  spots  luna  making  her  way  into  the  coffee  shop  where  he's  been  working  for  the  past  two  hours  ,  he  slams  his  laptop  shut  and  starts  gathering  his  things  .  of  course  ,  his  attempt  at  a  swift  exit  is  spoiled  when  luna  starts  speaking  to  him  .  he  takes  his  time  in  carefully  sliding  his  laptop  into  his  bag  ,  before  he  finally  looks  up  at  the  other  .  “  right  .  ”  the  word  is  accompanied  by  a  blank  stare  .  he  doesn't  give  a  proper  response  to  luna's  question  ;  he  has  no  interest  in  vapid  banter  .  “  i'm  sorry  for  leaving  early  .  ”  his  tone  doesn't  betray  even  a  hint  of  genuine  remorse  .  “  i  ...  didn't  see  the  point  of  wasting  more  of  our  mutual  time  .  ”

[scftspoken]

wcnderkidz​:

“  playing hard to get?  ”    camille razzed, perfectly aware of the deflective ways he had always tried to throw her way. an endless back and forth of barricades placed with the purpose of hindering the other’s steps that somehow had never worked – she still couldn’t understand how someone so different yet so similar could hold her like water in his hands.    “  even if i feel like a bug living in your brain i can’t possibly know everything that’s going on in your head,  ”    except at times, she felt like she did, even without him speaking. she could sense it in his eyes, in the way in which he peered at her and when he didn’t, especially when he didn’t, and she felt this hotness, like a rough rash, unfurling on the back of her neck, that she kept scratching without directly taking care of it. and the more she grated, the more he burned, silently, the way an old oak would, with no witness, only a faint smell of scorched wood in the air. yet, that was why she had fallen from daniel in the first place, because of his roots and the way his stretching branches offered nest for her drooping moon every night. camille stopped dead in her tracks as if his words had functioned as nails to her feet, one hand colliding against his chest with meteoric predictability – she had never known how to stay too long without touching or being touched. it rested there, but her touch wasn’t usual, it felt lighter and almost hesitant as if it was the first time and her fingers were prepared to flee at any moment. they didn’t and was almost on her tiptoe, staring him in the eyes and hers rebounded between his, absorbing equal parts of his iris.    “  you did?  ”    there was a hint of surprise in her voice, not that of someone taken aback, but one similar to waking up on  hristmas and finding the so-wished-for present wrapped under the tree.    “  thank you,  ”    she beamed, somewhat close to the sun rays hitting the back of her head,    “  but i hate you a little bit for never showing it to me,  ”    she added, squinting her eyes, picking and choosing between the reasons why he would possibly keep it hidden from her. she could guess the answer, like stumbling home late at night with no capability of remembering anything – she’d find her way home anyway. captured by another whirlwind, camille resumed her walk and found herself a few steps ahead of him because sudden and abrupt, but the distance was soon reduced by the tugging of his voice.    “  oh, because you aren’t already all of that?  ”    camille shot him a glance, an endeared dagger used as warning,    “  i know your games, daniel wylie — you can’t fool me.  ”    she chose to ignore his question, it had never been about her and she would never make it to be.    “  you would make a terrific writer with all the thoughts you keep in there ———— actually, once i read a quote of this writer saying how he could only put into words the things he lived once he felt distant from them – so maybe that’s what’s stopping you —- you still feel everything too vividly,  ”    she spoke as if her words were similar to ephemeral truths, like if talking about the weather or what she had eaten that day,    “  you know that you’re entitled a heart —– right?  ”

camille  has  caught  him  red-handed  :  he  feels  like  a  child  caught  with  his  hand  in  the  cookie  jar  ,  so  his  answer  draws  from  the  same  childish  imagery  :  boy  pulling  at  girl’s  pigtails  to  get  her  attention  .  “  ...  you’re  very  pretty  ,  for  a  bug  .  ”  her  touch  comes  both  as  a  comfort  and  a  shock  .  it’s  not  the  physical  sensation  itself  that  has  daniel  blinking  at  her  in  surprise  ,  but  her  hesitancy  ⸻    the  silent  question  in  the  air  :  is  this  okay  ?  as  if  he  could  ever  recoil  from  her  ,  as  if  she  could  ever  be  too  much  .  on  instinct  ,  both  of  his  hands  come  up  to  wrap  around  hers  .  his  touch  is  as  featherlight  as  hers  ,  but  together  their  hands  form  something  greater  than  the  sum  of  their  parts  —  a  steady  ,  warm  weight  against  his  heart  .  his  answer  to  her  question  is  apparent  ,  even  if  it  is  likewise  not  released  into  the  air  :  yes  ,  always  . her  unabashed  stare  is  a  more  challenging  trial  ,  and  he  nearly  buckles  under  its  strain  .  it  is  a  wonderful  ,  terrible  thing  :  to  be  seen  by  camille  ackerman  .  daniel  has  never  had  a  talent  for  holding  the  gaze  of  the  people  he  loves  .  his  eyes  inevitably  look  for  an  escape  route  ,  darting  away  in  a  stubborn  refusal  to  be  held  in  place  and  scrutinized  .    he  perseveres  .  camille’s  gaze  is  held  with  tentative  but  devoted  attention  .  fondness  soon  makes  his  eyes  crinkle  ,  even  if  his  lips  don’t  move  into  a  smile  accordingly  .  (  baby  steps  :  he  has  yet  to  master  that  trick  ,  as  well  .  )  daniel  can’t  quite  believe  that  his  attempt  at  romantic  expression  has  inspired  such  delight  in  her  ,  especially  when  he  has  admitted  that  it  amounted  to  nothing  more  than  abject  failure  .  moment  of  truth  ,  then  :  this  is  where  he  finally  breaks  away  from  her  gaze  ,  trial  failed  ,  turning  bashful  and  slightly  embarrassed  by  her  misdirected  gratitude  .  except  ⸻    he  doesn’t  .  the  script  is  flipped  :  instead  of  looking  away  ,  he  drinks  her  in  ,  matches  her  smile  —  his  tinged  with  amused  disbelief  rather  than  joy  ,  but  genuine  nonetheless  .  surely  ,  the  last  few  grief-filled  months  have  earned  him  this  single  moment  of  shamelessness  . he  considers  her  rhetorical  question  in  earnest  ,  thinks  of  the  words  he  has  used  to  describe  himself  ⸻    naturally  hones  in  on  the  least  flattering  of  them  ;  picking  at  imperfections  comes  easy  .  “  insufferable  ?  ”  he  clarifies  ,  but  the  word  falls  from  his  mouth  light  like  laughter  ,  offense  held  at  bay  .  seen  from  her  eyes  ,  his  self-depreciation  gets  a  more  gentle  sheen  :  not  brooding  ,  but  introspective  .  not  navel-gazing  ,  but  thoughtful  .  daniel’s  question  is  left  unanswered  ,  but  he  doesn’t  dwell  on  it  .  he’s  always  accepted  that  some  part  of  camille  will  forever  remain  unknowable  to  him  .  explaining  away  all  her  mysteries  would  feel  sacrilegious  ,  in  some  way  ,  like  he’s  inappropriately  questioning  the  secret  ingredient  in  a  friend’s  old  and  treasured  family  recipe  (  the  answer  is  always  the  same  ,  anyway  ,  unspoken  but  plain  as  day  :  it’s  love  ,  of  course  )  .  “  if  he  was  telling  the  truth  ,  i  will  never  be  able  to  write  about  you  ,  ”  he  responds  —  not  a  lament  ,  but  a  promise  .  distance  has  never  been  an  option  ,  not  with  her  .  “  but  i  don’t  understand  .  i  feel  too  vividly  ,  yet  you  remind  me  i’m  entitled  to  a  heart  .  so  which  is  it  :  do  i  feel  too  much  ,  or  not  enough  ?  ”  the  question  is  asked  with  genuine  curiosity  :  tell  me  who  you  see  when  you  look  at  me  .

[scftspoken]

lovebcmbs​:

she’s  stubborn  .  just  like  that  .  barely  ever  able  to  admit  it  herself  that  she’s  wrong  when  it’s  just  her  and  her  mirror  reflection  ,  let  alone  when  it’s  in  front  of  daniel  yet  it’s  not  like  her  hurt  would  even  let  her  see  past  that  .  it’s  the  same  scenario  all  over  again  .  weeks  ,  sometimes  even  months  of  zoya  putting  all  of  her  feelings  in  a  box  tucked  far  away  inside  ,  until  the  box  is  overfilled  and  she  just  has  to  snap  ,  she  has  to  let  it  all  out  yet  most  of  the  times  ,  it  was  just  her  ,  doing  her  stupid  shit  for  the  entire  night  or  two  in  a  row  .  she  doesn’t  remember  the  last  time  she  just  talked;  an  act  that  was  simple  ,  but  forced  her  to  use  all  of  her  strength  to  continue  talking  .  maybe  she  missed  that  ,  not  that  she’d  ever  admit  it  . “  i  never  asked  you  to  chase  me  , ACTUALLY  -  i  asked  you  to  leave  me  alone  .  ”  she  did  ,  multiple  times  ,  deep  down  being  thankful  that  he  never  did  but  it’s  a  feeling  she  refuses  to  accept  ,  without  realizing  that  if  it  wasn’t  for  daniel  ,  she  might’ve  gotten  herself  in  trouble  or  danger  a  long  time  ago  .  " go  .  connect  with  her  ,  at  least  you  will  .  you  don’t  have  to  babysit  me  ,  i’m  fine.  "  yet  another  lie  ,  she  became  so  good  at  it  that  she  doesn’t  even  flinch  ,  not  a  single  muscle  on  her  face  moves  and  not  a  single  habit  that  would  ever  let  him  know  she’s  lying  .  but  it  became  a  lie  so  common  that  only  an  idiot  would  believe  her  . a  loud  swallow  as  his  words  get  to  her  ,  chewing  on  her  cheek  now  before  she  finishes  her  drink  .  an  alcohol  burning  in  the  back  of  her  throat  ,  a  heat  coming  through  her  body  -  uncertain  if  an  unhealthy  amount  of  drinks  were  the  cause  or  was  it  all  of  the  feelings  inside  of  her  ,  all  of  the  feelings  this  conversation  brought  up  .  "  i  can’t  be  around  her  .  she  makes  me  physically  ill  .  "  if  only  she’d  know  that  the  way  she  feels  about  their  mother  is  somewhat  similiar  to  how  he  might  feel  about  their  father  .  maybe  if  she  did  ,  they’d  find  a  common  ground  ,  more  understanding  .  for  the  first  time  this  evening  ,  she  sniffs  .  she  hates  the  wall  she  created  ;  the  wall  that  doesn’t  allow  her  to  say  words  as  simple  as  ’i’ve  always  got  your  back  ’  ,  the  wall  that  doesn’t  let  her  get  vulnerable  ,  emotional  ,real  ,  genuine  with  her  own  brother  ;  someone  she  loved  ,  someone  who  never  left  her  for  a  split  second  despite  her  attempts  to  force  him  to  leave  her  .  "  i  need  some  fresh  air  .  "  a  sudden  change  of  where  their  conversation  was  going  ,  she  leaves  money  on  the  bar  table  as  she’s  trying  to  grasp  for  balance  while  standing  up  .  usually  ,  she’d  just  leave  .  leaving  daniel  behind  ,  not  even  looking  at  him  ;  she’d  try  to  get  as  far  away  as  possible  ,  probably  forcing  him  to  look  for  her  again  .  "  it’s  dark  ,  i  can  hear  the  drunk  guys  outside  . do  you  wanna  come  with  me  ?  "

“  you  didn’t  ,  ”  daniel  agrees  easily  .  despite  the  animosity  he  sometimes  feels  for  his  sister  ,  he  knows  she  has  never  asked  him  for  anything  .  he  cannot  grant  himself  absolution  by  shifting  the  blame  of  their  rift  onto  her  .  instead  ,  he  knows  the  cause  lies  in  his  egotistical  need  to  hold  on  to  her  ,  when  zoya  wants  nothing  more  than  for  him  to  let  her  go  .  so  when  she  urges  him  to  leave  ,  he  falls  quiet  despite  her  blatant  lie  ,  hesitates  .  isn't  she  an  adult  now  ?  if  she  so  desperately  wants  to  self-destruct  ,  shouldn't  he  let  her  ?  he  knows  it  was  callous  of  him  to  pit  her  sisterly  loyalty  against  her  distaste  of  their  mother    ;  has  seen  the  way  zoya  flinches  at  her  presence  in  much  the  same  way  he  does  with  their  father  .  loyalty  is  one  thing  ,  a  blatant  disregard  for  your  own  emotional  well-being  in  favor  of  someone  else's  is  another  ⸻  that's  always  been  his  domain  ,  not  hers  .  so  perhaps  this  is  the  solution  to  their  stalemate  (  not  a  perfect  one  ,  but  a  viable  one  )  :  let  zoya  go  ,  go  home  ,  forget  this  night  ever  happened  . what  makes  him  the  worse  person  ?  the  fact  that  he  considers  abandoning  his  sister  ,  or  that  he  ultimately  does  not  ? when  zoya  stands  and  sways  ,  daniel  is  out  of  his  chair  before  he  can  consciously  make  the  decision  to  ,  arm  coming  up  to  brace  against  his  sister's  back  in  order  to  keep  her  firmly  on  her  feet  .  the  action  is  born  out  of  the  well-worn  path  they  are  both  familiar  with  ,  simple  cause  and  effect  :  zoya  needs  him  ,  so  daniel  will  not  leave  .  “  easy  there  ,  lightweight  ,  ”  he  teases  .  he  maneuvers  his  way  around  his  coat  pocket  to  extract  some  bills  out  of  his  wallet  with  one  hand  ,  leaving  them  next  to  his  unfinished  drink  without  bothering  to  count  them  .  “  of  course  i'm  coming  .  someone  needs  to  keep  those  poor  guys  safe  from  you  .  ”  as  the  siblings  make  their  way  towards  the  exit  ,  daniel  leaves  his  hand  resting  lightly  on  the  small  of  zoya's  back  —  whether  for  her  comfort  or  his  own  ,  he  cannot  say  .

[scftspoken]

laylasfm​:

“   oh  ,   i   forgot   to   tell   you   !   i   was   leaving   a   lecture   ,   minding   my   own   business   ,   when   a   girl   just   grabbed   my   arm   and   started   yelling   at   me   .   guess   what   happened   …   ”—    “   ding   -   ding   !    zade's   ex   ,    another   ex   .   apparently   he   didn't   tell   her   he   was   moving   to   l.a.   or   whatever   ,   ”   she   rollled   her   eyes   .   layla   loved   her   brother   ,   but   it   was   so   hard   to   be   his   sister   .    “   but   tell   me   ,   what's   going   on   with   your   life   ?”   asked   ,   dark   hues   finding   the   other's   .

“  layla  ,  i  can’t  believe  you  .  you’re  supposed  to  give  any  ex-to-be  a  seventy-two  hour  warning  in  advance  .  there’s  an  entire  chapter  about  it  in  the  “  being  the  sibling  of  a  menace  to  society  ”  handbook  .  clearly  ,  someone's  slacking  .  ”  the  words  are  said  with  utmost  seriousness  ,  but  the  twinkle  in  daniel’s  eyes  betrays  him  .  however  ,  genuine  concern  invades  his  expression  as  he  rethinks  something  the  other  has  said  .  “  wait  —  she  didn’t  hurt  you  or  anything  ,  did  she  ?  your  arm  okay  ?  ”  he  gives  a  half-shrug  as  a  response  to  her  question  ,  before  adding  :  “  —  not  much  ,  i  guess  ?  work  has  been  a  drag  ,  haven’t  had  much  time  for  anything  else  .  we’re  making  sure  that  anything  important  is  dealt  with  before  christmas  .  i  don’t  want  to  bore  you  with  the  details  .  ”  he  pauses  ,  sighs  .  “  not  looking  forward  to  the  holidays  ,  actually  .  i’ll  take  rewriting  influencer  contracts  over  trying  to  make  awkward  small  talk  with  my  family  during  the  most  wonderful  time  of  the  year  any  day  .  any  chance  your  folks  would  take  me  in  ?  i  can  help  cook  and  everything  .  ”

[scftspoken]

adelinelives​:

the person in the paparazzi pictures   is more character than human.     the caricature:   angular,   glassy-eyed and wan,   with her eternally red-tipped nose.     cold to the touch,   yet red with   blood   that fights an infection,   from breaking and reconstructing her nose one too many times,   until it   loses;   the nose turns black and falls from her face.     a classic model’s story:   a story her mother would put her to bed with.     it ends with a skeletal nose to match the rest of her face.     that’s all she can see:   her body growing more   misshapen   every day.     how could anyone want to keep an unnatural image like that around?     and yet,   the raindrops collect there,   her skin remembering where his thumb warmed her cold,   purple-bagged under-eye.     indented permanently from his thumbprint.     (   and something   grotesque   roused within her,   something heavy and impenetrable.     something inaccessible yet familiar like a childhood home.     something like   fondness.   )     bleary-eyed:   her eyes are dry.     the raindrops freeze on her cheeks,   making them redder and redder.     the flush will photograph badly,   making her look ill like a child inflicted with tuberculosis.     rotting and breathing.     but he doesn’t mind;   he even brought her close.     he has his father’s smile, but still calls it his   own.     he showed a glimpse of it to her.     it should be nice to see a smile,   shouldn’t it? the cards are in his hands,   right where she left them.     where she wanted to leave them.     idle dwellings:   his father probably couldn’t put a face to her name.     she wishes there were timestamps for unsent texts,   to actually feel the date changing every day.     plucking clumsily at her own thin,   taut heart strings,   incapable of producing musical notes.     off-key:   unnatural.     and yet,   warm.     he keeps her   warm   in this rain,   like a reflection unconstrained.     his smile thrums her strings in a way she doesn’t care for.     (   read:   most people introduce themselves with a   “   you have your mother’s smile,   ”   to her.   )     there are no more words unsaid;   there is only the present where the cards are evenly distributed between their hands.     no advantage.     “   why would they ask?     we’re the public discourse,   aren’t we?     streaking even with our clothes on.     especially   with our clothes on.   ”     it’s easy,   he’s easy.     she knows him like the back of her hand.     bad non-father,   annoying mother,   difficult sister,   unwanted and fated vocation.     too easy:   too close.     if she pulls at him again,   he might pull away so both would get the space they want from each other.     “   but i’m not above a cuddle session in the middle of the street.     then it’s an   ‘   i’m not crying,   i’m just   happy   to see you   ’   kinda situation.     if neither of us have gotten better at smiling,   it’d be a   boring   drama.     too easy to predict the ending,   y’know?   ”

“  i  suppose  you’re  right  .  ”  a  reminder  daniel  doesn’t  like  ,  evident  in  the  way  his  brows  furrow  in  consternation  ,  before  smoothing  back  into  neutrality  .  her  metaphor  is  disturbingly  apt  .  it’s  something  he  tries  not  to  dwell  on  much  (  he  has  no  desire  to  add  ‘  prone  to  self-indulgent  pity  parties  ’  to  his  list  of  flaws  )  ,  but  it  never  gets  any  easier  :  the  headlines  ,  the  gossip  blogs  ,  the  twitter  mentions  .  it’s  disorienting  ,  seeing  yourself  spoken  of  like  a  chess  piece  in  a  game  you  never  consented  to  .  it  makes  him  feel  like  an  uninvited  guest  to  his  own  surprise  party  ⸻    or  no  ,  not  even  that  :  not  a  person  ,  but  a  lifeless  thing  without  agency  ,  as  incapable  of  deciding  his  own  faith  as  any  random  piece  of  furniture  .  every  time  his  picture  is  taken  without  consent  (  the  most  recent  offender  :  a  blurry  picture  of  daniel  entering  some  overpriced  flashy  restaurant  with  luna  hernandez  )  ,  an  invention  (  or  worse  still  ,  the  truth  )  is  shared  without  request  for  comment  ,  the  unsettling  feeling  returns  :  affront  and  vague  embarrassment  ,  like  he  had  indeed  been  captured  naked  . daniel  hesitates  ,  not  sure  whether  he  should  take  her  words  as  jest  ⸻    or  whether  that's  simply  what  he  wants  to  do  .  adeline’s  suggestion  inspires  a  strong  wave  of  reluctance  .  he  still  feels  …  fickle  ,  less  than  human  ,  not  quite  present  .  with  someone  else  ,  physical  touch  might  serve  as  a  gentle  reminder  that  he  is  in  fact  inhabiting  his  body    ⸻    but  with  adeline  ,  he  is  certain  that  the  sensation  would  be  more  akin  to  being  woken  from  a  bad  dream  with  a  bucket  of  ice  water  .  by  the  time  he  has  decided  he  should  hug  her  (  for  old  time’s  sake  ,  if  nothing  else  )  ,  an  uncomfortable  silence  has  fallen  between  them  ,  and  he  loses  his  nerve  .  to  save  face  ,  he  admits  :  “  i  like  predictable  endings  .  they’re  predictable  because  the  audience  can  make  sense  of  the  characters’  actions  before  they  are  even  carried  out  .  doesn’t  that  suggest  that  the  characters  are  the  truest  ,  most  honest  versions  of  themselves  ?  ”

[scftspoken]

siadai​:

Daniel’s gentleness hits him like a slap to the face. Any human being capable of recognizing patterns could have predicted this, but Lightning each and every time believes, fully and completely, that this will be what finally pushes Daniel Wylie away. And if Daniel had any sort of sense of self-preservation, he would have run far away by now: but he doesn’t, and Lightning is selfish, and Lightning is left only to marvel once more at what is in front of him, what remains in front of him. I’ve missed you, offered without having to beg; I’m sorry, offered at all. It takes him a few seconds to reel from it; to find his footing after the anger has been slipped from under his feet. Lightning runs his fingers through his hair, shutting his eyes, allowing himself to breathe for some moments. “I didn’t,” he admits, finally, after some moments. “I didn’t mean it.” And Lightning, ever unable to keep his thoughts to himself, says: “But if you had left, at least I would have been able to say that it was because I told you to. I’m sorry,” he says again, and he resists the urge to bite his lip, to curl his fingers just to feel pain. “I really am sorry.” Lightning says this like a votive, and he doesn’t exactly understand why, because he means every word of what he has so furiously said to Daniel, or at least he believes that he does, and there is little to no difference between the truth and what is believed to be true. Lightning is out of words, out of actions, rid of everything but this soul-searing shame which feels like insects crawling into his skin to settle into his bones. It doesn’t last long. Lightning cycles through emotions at the rate of a thousand per second, and he thinks about what Daniel has said, lost in the whirlwind of what he himself has said, amalgamating into a push and pull of persuasion, and how skillfully Daniel had appeased and diffused, as though it were second nature to him, and how easily Lightning had let him. The shame rises again, ever eager to be at the front — “I don’t deserve — “ he begins, but doesn’t continue. Lightning is selfish: he may not deserve whatever it is he is claiming not to deserve, but he will accept it anyway. “You’re wrong, Wylie.“ Wylie, meant to distance, meant to detach from any form of intimacy. “I’m not good, and one day you’ll realize it, and I hope for your fucking sake it won’t be too late.” Regardless, Lightning sighs, and he nods, and he walks past Daniel — and he doesn’t really know where he’s going, he just wants to busy himself. He ends up by the kitchen counter to where Daniel had been preparing food. “Right. Come here, then. What were you making, anyway? I’ve never really cooked before. Tell me what to do.”

daniel  should  feel  relief  at  lightning’s  concession  .  and  for  one  exhilarating  ,  victorious  moment  ,  he  does  —  overwhelmingly  so  .  but  like  a  candle  burning  too  bright  to  maintain  its  flame  ,  the  sensation  ebbs  away  almost  instantaneously  ,  replaced  with  an  emptiness  that  feels  like  nausea  .  it  is  a  curious  thing  ,  this  giving  of  himself  as  a  balm  against  conflict  :  vulnerability  as  peace  offering  ,  not  as  readily  given  gift  .  there  is  no  joy  in  it  ,  only  a  sense  of  shame  and  (  if  daniel  is  honest  with  himself  )  resentment  . sometimes  he  imagines  lightning  as  a  slow-acting  poison  ,  corroding  him  from  the  inside  until  he  has  given  all  of  himself  ,  until  there  is  nothing  left  to  give  .  he  knows  it  is  unkind  to  think  of  his  friend  in  this  way  .  if  lightning  is  poison  ,  daniel  has  ingested  him  all  too  willingly  .  no  one  demanded  he  make  this  bargain  ;  he  signed  up  for  it  eagerly  the  moment  the  older  man  opened  his  eyes  in  that  hospital  bed  ⸻  and  just  as  with  the  obligations  he  meets  as  his  father’s  obedient  son  ,  he  will  meet  the  demands  of  this  new  pledge  dutifully  and  without  complaint  . even  if  lightning  had  wanted  to  finish  his  sentence  ,  clarify  whatever  it  is  he  thinks  himself  undeserving  of  ,  daniel  would  not  have  allowed  him  to  .  i  don’t  deserve  —  the  statement  is  so  patently  ridiculous  coming  out  of  lightning's  mouth  ,  the  error  in  his  assumption  so  glaringly  obvious  that  daniel  wants  to  laugh  (  but  if  he  did  ,  it  would  be  a  laugh  without  humor  )  .  if  there  is  a  person  undeserving  of  this  friendship  ,  it  is  not  lightning  .  “  you  deserve  far  more  than  i  can  ever  give  you  .  ”  his  tone  is  that  of  a  parent  explaining  a  basic  fact  of  life  to  a  child  .  the  sky  is  blue  ,  the  leaves  fall  from  the  trees  in  autumn  ,  and  you  deserve  …  everything  .  whatever  substitute  daniel  can  offer  instead  will  never  be  enough  ,  because  daniel  himself  will  never  be  enough  .  it’s  a  fact  he  has  made  his  begrudging  peace  with  . he  does  not  deign  to  provide  lightning’s  warning  with  a  response  ,  because  he  does  not  believe  it  warrants  one  .  not  because  it  convinces  him  of  anything  ,  but  because  lightning’s  entire  point  is  moot  .  if  the  other  man  is  right  ,  despite  his  own  fervent  belief  to  the  contrary  ,  then  it  is  already  too  late  for  daniel    .  how  can  you  warn  a  person  to  step  away  from  a  fire  ,  when  its  heat  is  the  only  thing  keeping  them  warm  ?  lightning  holds  his  unflinching  loyalty  .  if  that  loyalty  proves  to  be  misplaced  ,  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  done  about  it  now  . as  lightning  moves  towards  him  ,  daniel  steps  aside  ,  the  other's  nearness  suddenly  stifling  .  “  actually  —  maybe  you  were  right  about  taking  a  rain  check  on  lunch  .  ”  he  lifts  his  bandaged  hand  up  at  lightning  by  way  of  explanation  ,  apologetic  smile  on  his  lips  .  “  we  have  one  fully  functioning  hand  between  us  ,  and  i  have  to  head  back  to  the  office  soon  .  i'll  order  you  something  before  i  head  out  ,  though  .  wouldn't  want  you  to  starve  without  my  excellent  cooking  skills  .  ”  it’s  a  weak  excuse  ,  even  to  his  own  ears  .  where  he  was  so  assured  he  would  do  anything  to  stay  mere  minutes  ago  ,  the  wariness  that  he  feels  now  makes  him  want  to  put  distance  between  lightning  and  himself  .  it's  not  a  permanent  desire  ,  though  —  never  that  .  it’s  simply  a  chance  to  lick  his  wounds  before  he  inevitably  makes  his  way  to  the  fire  again  .

[scftspoken]

lovebcmbs​:

it’s  a  fight  she’s  going  through  ,  it  takes  everything  in  her  to  bite  her  tongue  ;  for  once  not  wanting  to  start  a  fight  with  daniel  ,  perhaps  a  result  of  too  many  drinks  in  a  short  amount  of  time  .she  isn’t  a  mother  -  is  what  zoya’s  thoughts  are  screaming  ,  wanting  so  bad  to  leave  her  mouth  but  she  doesn’t  let  them  .  at  least  until  their  dad  doesn’t  come  in  the  picture  .  it’s  funny  ,  how  their  parents  are  the  reason  they’re  both  here  yet  it  looks  like  they’re  also  one  of  the  reason  why  zoya  and  daniel  are  distant  .  she  notices  the  way  daniel  calls  him  ,  wasn’t  the  first  time  .  it’s  also  not  the  first  time  she  chooses  to  ignore  it .  “  maybe  their  marriage  wouldn’t  be  complicated  if  she  stayed  around  more  often  ,  daniel  .  ”  her  tone  back  to  sharp  ,  it’s  as  if  their  mother  was  a  trigger  for  her  .  she  is  .  ironically  ,  it’s  also  the  first  time  in  however  long  that  zoya  says  more  than  two  words  in  one  sentence  around  daniel  ,  an  amounts  of  alcohol  she  poured  in  her  body  definitely  untying  her  tongue  .  “  if  she  thinks  blowing  up  my  phone  in  the  middle  of  the  night  telling  me  to  go  home  will  make  it  up  for  all  the  times  dad  was  the  one  doing  it  ,  she’s  wrong  .  she  can’t  fly  back  home  once  a  month  and  act  like  dad  for  one  night  .  or  you  .  ” despite  countless  fights  zoya  has  with  their  her  dad  ,  at  least  he  was  always  there  .  at  least  it  was  either  him  or  daniel  ,  driving  to  the  other  side  of  the  city  just  to  drag  her  back  home  after  she  didn’t  pick  up  .  it  was  him  and  daniel  pep  talking  her  about  how  irresponsible  she  is  ,  about  how  something  could  happen  to  her  .  “  she  doesn’t  even  call  me  .  she  texts  me  ,  sure  ,  but  she  doesn’t  call  me  .  i’m  not  going  to  pretend  that  her  disappearing  from  my  life  doesn’t  bother  me  and  i’m  not  going  to  act  that  she  can  take  dad  or  yours  place  when  she’s  around  for  what  ,  two  days  ?  a  week  ?  i’m  sure  she’s  already  packing  her  bags  .  ”  she  knows  she  will  regret  this  in  the  morning  ,  she  won’t  be  able  to  face  daniel  for  at  least  two  days  until  they  act  like  this  evening  didn’t  happen  .  she  haven’t  showed  him  how  their  mother’s  absence  affects  her  ;  at  least  not  the  same  way  she  did  now  .  by  using  words  ,  which  she  rarely  does  .

cruelty  nearly  falls  off  the  tip  of  daniel’s  tongue  faster  than  he  can  swallow  it  down  ,  but  he  catches  it  just  in  time  ;  forces  down  the  impulse  to  confront  zoya  with  her  own  hypocrisy  .  he  merely  shoots  her  a  glance  ,  a  brief  twitch  of  his  brows  the  only  acknowledgement  that  he  can  taste  the  irony  in  her  words  .  he  knows  her  dating  history  (  has  let  her  cry  on  his  shoulder  for  each  of  her  heartbreaks  )   —  he  is  perfectly  aware  that  desperately   carving  a  way  out  for  yourself  when  someone  gets  too  close  for  comfort  is  a  trait  they  have  both  inherited  from  their  mother . it  isn't  until  zoya  is  done  with  her  confession  that  daniel  realizes  he's  been  holding  his  breath  all  throughout  it  .  it's  fitting  ,  in  a  way  .  talking  to  his  sister  has  always  felt  like  walking  a  tightrope  ,  holding  your  breath  until  you  have  successfully  navigated  your  way  over  it  —  or  until  it  snaps  .  the  breath  leaves  his  mouth  in  a  worn  out  sigh  .  he  wonders  if  the  action  is  a  precursor  to  stepping  off  the  rope  and  reaching  the  other  side  ,  or  to  falling  into  the  abyss  below  .  “  of  course  it  bothers  you  ,  i  never  said  that  it  doesn't  .  or  that  you  have  to  pretend  that  it  doesn't  .  you  think  i  didn't  want  a  parent  around  when  we  were  kids  ?  ”  (  parent  ,  singular  ,  because  the  man  he  calls  his  father  has  never  been  interested  in  fulfilling  the  duties  of  that  role  .  )  “  but  she's  here  now  ,  and  i'm  trying  to  use  what  little  time  we  get  with  her  to  connect  with  her  ,  and  instead  i  have  to  waste  my  time  chasing  you  down  across  the  city  every  time  you  pull  one  of  your  little  disappearing  acts  .  ” daniel  suddenly  remembers  himself  :  the  two  of  them  are  in  a  bar  ,  there  are  people  around  who  would  love  to  get  the  inside  scoop  on  the  wylie  siblings'  newest  argument  —  so  he  lowers  his  voice  ,  leans  in  closer  to  zoya  to  stare  her  down  .  “  do  you  even  know  how  selfish  you're  being  ?  i  thought  we  were  supposed  to  have  each  other's  backs  .  ”  his  skin  crawls  at  how  petulant  (  how  needy  )  he  sounds  ,  but  he  doesn't  avert  his  gaze  from  hers  .  if  tonight  is  the  night  they  air  all  their  grievances  ,  they  may  as  well  cut  right  to  the  heart  of  it  .

[scftspoken]

adelinelives​:

@scftspoken​​ said:     UMBRELLA :   for one muse to share their umbrella with the other on a rainy day.

eyes closed :   pause.     five heartbeats per breath,   calm and steady.     her clothes soak into her skin;   her body sheds the glisten of her sculpted clay-body.     the screaming cold feels warm among these liquid crowds flooding the streets.     i should taste the rain,   she thinks,   feel the tangy drops on my tongue.     the rain,   however,   stops before she can consider it any longer.     eyes open :   next scene.     enter daniel,   almost a head taller and holding an umbrella over them.     rain patters sharply above them,   and she feels her feet again.     she can’t distinguish his features,   raindrops from her brow bone fall into her eye.     he encroaches on her bubble of warmth,   suffocating her back into the present. she sniffs wetly,   makes   herself titter and looks at the ground.     there must be mascara running down her cheeks.     “   you’re taking my breath away,   danny,   and without even a little hug,   ”   she says,   like he’s too close to her.     her arm wraps into the crook of his elbow,   trying to corral him away from this storefront.     her face can’t be puffy in this rain,   but there   must   be mascara cresting at her neck.     “   you should bring me to get new clothes,   y’know.     so people don’t think you made me   cry   in the middle of the street.   ”

it  has  been  one  of  those  days  .  a  day  of  balancing  books  that  cannot  be  balanced  ,  making  phone  calls  with  victims  clients  consisting  in  large  part  of  thinly  veiled  threats  ,  listening  to  his  father’s  ever-present  judgements  of  him  (  whether  real  or  imagined  )  ...  —  and  that  was  before  noon  .  the  rest  of  the  day  was  worse  .  he  desperately  longs  to  go  home  ,  slip  out  of  his  wrongdoings  like  they  are  merely  an  ill-fitting  and  itchy  suit  ,  and  sleep  the  evening  away  in  a  pleasant  haze  of  ignorant  unconsciousness  .  messenger  bag  slung  over  his  shoulder  and  umbrella  in  hand  ,  he  makes  his  way  out  of  the  office  preparing  to  do  just  that  . instead  ,  there  is  this  :  adeline  ,  standing  motionless  in  the  pouring  rain  ,  snow  queen  from  the  old  fairy  tale  made  flesh  and  blood  .  the  sight  makes  him  shiver  .  not  only  because  of  his  friend’s  sudden  and  frosty  appearance  ,  but  for  the  guilt  that  creeps  up  on  him  ,  as  biting  as  the  cold  .  the  last  time  he  reached  out  to  adeline  …  well  .  it  has  been  a  while  . the  image  of  warm  blankets  lingers  tantalizingly  in  his  mind  ,  but  he  can’t  just  leave  his  friend  out  in  the  cold  .  before  he  can  change  his  mind  ,  he  is  standing  beside  adeline  ,  shielding  her  from  the  rain  with  his  umbrella  .  a  weak  smile  paints  his  lips  to  greet  her  ,  the  emotion  not  quite  reaching  his  eyes  .  he  doesn’t  respond  to  her  teasing  ,  but  the  comment  makes  him  stiffen  a  little  ,  suddenly  uncomfortably  aware  of  how  close  the  shared  umbrella  has  forced  them  to  stand  .      “  do  you  want  a  hug  ?  ”  the  question  is  asked  dispassionately  ,  not  betraying  his  own  opinion  on  the  matter  . despite  daniel's  unease  about  the  pair's  proximity  ,  adeline's  comment  still  has  him  gently  swiping  his  thumb  under  her  eyes  to  rub  out  some  smudged  mascara  that  has  collected  there  .  “  you  think  they  will  ?  ”  he  wonders  fleetingly  —    but  catches  himself  before  he  can  take  the  thought  any  further  ,  breathing  a  self-conscious  chuckle  .  at  some  charity  dinner  a  few  years  ago  ,  the  event's  organizer  had  asked  him  to  introduce  her  to  his  sister  .  the  woman  had  shifted  her  body  expectantly  —  not  towards  zoya  ,  but  to  adeline  .  it  wasn't  the  first  time  he's  been  told  the  two  are  as  two  peas  in  a  pod  :  their  stoic  stares  ,  their  work  ethic  ,  their  downright  stubborn  refusal  to  share  much  of  their  private  lives  .  he’s  never  understood  the  comparison  .  his  aloofness  is  a  learned  skill  ,  a  defense  mechanism  .  by  comparison  ,  hers  seems  genuine  ,  effortless  .  something  about  being  around  adeline  always  intensifies  his  tendency  towards  overthinking  ,  her  undecipherable  countenance  making  him  interpret  innocuous  comments  as  attack  or  warning  . “  i  think  people  believe  what  they  want  to  believe  .  nothing  we  can  do  to  change  that  .  ”  it’s  a  nice  sentiment  ,  but  it’s  not  his  ⸻  it’s  hers  .  an  old  habit  :  sewing  costumes  of  other  people’s  opinions  and  behaviors  ,  only  to  cloak  himself  in  them  during  moments  of  uncertainty  ,  mirroring  the  threat  the  individual  back  at  themselves  .  i  am  you  ,  you  are  me  —  you  cannot  attack  your  own  reflection  .  it  feels  like  safety  and  suffocation  ,  simultaneously  .  the  trait  is  especially  prominent  with  adeline  ,  not  just  due  to  the  secret  shared  between  them  that  has  him  avoiding eye  contact  with  her  as  he  walks  in  the  direction  she’s  pulling  him  in  ,  but  because  he  doesn’t  remember  ever  feeling  on  sure  footing  with  her  .      “  besides  ,  who  am  i  to  deny  adeline  livingston  her  fair  share  of  drama  ?    if  anyone  asks  ,  make  it  a  good  story  ,  will  you  ?  ”  the  day  has  already  left  him  feeling  like  a  monster  ,  the  media  might  as  well  paint  him  as  one  .  

[scftspoken]

wcnderkidz​:​

it seemed like a story depicted in old black and white films when in cinemas it was still difficult to separate the reality faded by the smoke of young cigarettes from the imaginary lives represented on the screen; when dreaming was even easier than hoping. to some extent, camille felt like one of those characters who couldn’t be fully grasped, like a projection of something both there and somewhere else: it made sense that the only person ever capable of grasping her was someone as aerial, ghostly, almost transparent — who silently begged to be looked at without ever asking. yet she had caught a glimpse of him in the dim light of the caffe, hidden behind a book, without needing nor wanting a cue. and so the girl fell in love with the foreigner, a tale old as time. “  you know what i think?  ”    like the mast of an old sailing ship damaged after years of battling the whacking waves, camille swayed with open arms on a wall too low to fall from, twisted by her fervid imagination into the only gap separating her from the chasm below her every time she closed her eyes and purposely pushed one foot too far.    “  well, it’s not really a thought, more like a guess — a wild shot, hands tied behind your back, blindfolded and all,  ”    she hopped off, no longer interested in her play-pretend, and rushed to face daniel with such an urgency that made her seem itchy as if thousands of ants had crawled from the tip of her toes to the highest point of her thighs, and she moved so relentlessly with the hope of kicking them away.    “  you look like the kind of guy who thinks in poem shapes,  ”    a statement left at that, uncaring of explanations just as she was unconcerned of any obstacle that could’ve presented itself in the way of her backward steps.

“  a  wild  shot  ?  ”  daniel  repeats  ,  amused  ,  certain  camille  will  understand  his  teasing  tone  .  there  are  no  wild  shots  to  be  taken  about  a  person  so  in  tandem  with  your  own  thoughts  ,  who  sees  the  world  exactly  as  you  see  it  .  it’s  like  trying  to  bring  yourself  to  laughter  by  tickling  your  own  feet  :  an  exercise  in  futility  .  however  ,  it's  also  an  avoidance  of  the  question  ,  one  that  he  knows  the  other  won't  stand  for  ;  so  he  shakes  himself  ,  mirrors  her  steps  on  the  solid  ground  alongside  her  as  he  takes  a  moment  to  think  of  his  answer  . even  though  the  wall  is  low  ,  his  hands  are  itching  to  steady  the  swaying  girl  in  case  of  a  stumble  —  but  as  she  rights  herself  on  the  earth  below  and  faces  him  ,  he  realizes  with  fondness  that  there  was  never  any  chance  of  that  .  she  is  more  sprite  than  human  ,  after  all  .  if  she  had  not  joined  him  on  the  steady  ground  ,  if  she  had  opted  instead  to  float  up-up-upwards  and  away  ,  until  there  was  nothing  left  of  her  but  an  ever-diminishing  speck  on  the  horizon  ,  he  doubt  he  would  have  been  surprised  .  heartbroken  ,  yes  ,  but  understanding  of  the  fact  that  some  people  simply  do  not  belong  to  this  world  . “  i  tried  to  write  you  a  poem  ,  once  .  ”  he  had  written  countless  opening  lines  ,  filled  his  waste  paper  basket  to  the  brim  before  he  had  given  up  on  the  endeavor  altogether  .  in  the  end  ,  the  dilemma  had  been  unsolvable  :  anything  other  than  a  reflection  of  his  true  feelings  for  her  was  unacceptable  ,  but  every  time  he  came  near  that  truth  the  blatant  display  of  emotion  on  the  page  made  his  stomach  turn  with  embarrassment  .  he  feels  the  same  prickle  of  discomfort  now  ,  the  same  duality  :  longing  and  repulsion  at  the  thought  of  being  vulnerable  with  her  .  he  squashes  it  down  .  however  ,  the  urge  for  self-deprecation  remains  —  cutting  himself  down  before  anyone  else  can  ,  even  though  camille  has  shown  him  over  and  over  again  that  it  is  an  irrational  fear  ,  at  least  as  it  pertains  to  her  .  finally  ,  he  adds  :  “  but  —  ah  ,  i  just  don't  think  i'm  cut  out  to  be  a  writer  .  all  that  brooding  and  navel-gazing  .  it  would  make  me  so  insufferable  that  you  would  finally  stop  wanting  to  be  associated  with  me  ,  and  then  where  would  that  leave  me  ?  …  ⸻  is  it  my  turn  now  ?  ”

[scftspoken]

siadai​:

“Yes, Daniel, happy for me,” Lightning says, and he tries to keep himself calm, he really does, and if one knew him well then they might be able to tell by the way his voice shakes as he says: “You don’t understand. You don’t. I am jealous and possessive and controlling and angry and absolutely fucking insane and I am irreparable to the core for the sole reason that I don’t want to be fucking fixed, for the reason that I like it this way — and fuck, Daniel, I’ve fucked my own brain up to the point that I can’t feel anything or I feel everything at once and I want to scream and I want to hide in the darkness, I’ve fucked my brain up to the point that some days I can’t fucking tell what’s real and what’s not, and the only thought I have to cling to is that it doesn’t matter if it’s real or not, because Farley is here, and how could I ever need anything else? You don’t know what it’s like to share the world with someone who looks at it the same way that you do, who looks at you with all your faults and all your flaws and thinks to fucking love you for them, every bit of you; you don’t know what it’s like to have someone be as fucked up as you — except they’re so good, they’re so fucking good at hiding it, and they can go to school and go to work and be fucking normal and act like they’re not as fucked in the head as I am, and — they have a million fucking choices, all of them better than I am, and it hurts, it hurts, but every fucking time they come back to me!” Anger is anger is anger but this time his rage is borne with hurt, a defiant need to get the other understand for god knows what reason. “And we fucking dance with daggers at each other’s throats and I don’t trust them and everything they says makes me question everything I am and they destroy me and I destroy them and it’s a neverending fucking cycle, and I don’t know how to possibly explain this to you, but I have never believed in anything in the way that I believe in them.” Faith to the point of apotheosis; Farley could be nothing less than god to Lightning, his heart in the mercy of their palms. “I need them — I need them, because no one will ever love me the way that they do, because I have no one except for Farley, no real friends who know me for more than a night of thrill and excitement, because anyone who so much as gets a glimpse of how fucked I am in the head turns and runs for damn good reason. Everyone else in this world will leave me, but Farley will always be there — “ Except, in the trail of thoughts of this anger, Lightning realizes something and so the anger turns to guilt; so the anger turns to shame. And he doesn’t speak what makes him pause, and instead he only looks away. “Fuck. I’m sorry, fuck, I didn’t mean to make you my fucking therapist.” Shame rises up his throat and it makes him even angrier, and he turns his head away because he doesn’t want the other to see — there, glittering, at the corner of his eyes, and he doesn’t know whether it’s this or his words that make him feel this bone-wrenching rage. “Sorry to have wasted your time today. Let’s — have lunch another day. Or never. I don’t know. I need to — fuck — I don’t know. Just fucking go.“ 

if  there  is  one  concept  daniel  has  never  understood  ,  it’s  that  of  the  fight  or  flight  response  .  it  has  never  been  in  daniel’s  nature  to  run  from  that  which  is  hurting  him  ,  but  putting  his  fists  up  and  protecting  himself  with  violence  and  harsh  words  is  also  an  unfathomable  thought  .  from  his  personal  experience  ,  he  knows  that  fight  merely  increases  conflict  ,  while  flight  postpones  it  .  his  entire  life  ,  he’s  chosen  a  third  option  .  the  third  option  looks  like  :  leaving  your  own  needs  and  desires  at  the  door  ,  staying  pleasant  through  anger  and  hurt  ,  apologizing  ,  apologizing  ,  apologizing  . even  though  he  can  tell  that  lightning  is  holding  back  his  anger  ,  a  lifetime  of  being  trapped  in  never-ending  conflict  has  him  acutely  aware  of  the  danger  that  has  presented  itself  in  the  turn  the  conversation  has  taken  .  no  ,  neither  fight  nor  flight  represent  how  daniel  alleviates  the  gut-wrenching  dread  he  feels  at  any  sign  of  conflict  .  instead  :  “  i’m  sorry  .  ”  his  brows  furrow  in  supplication  ,  his  voice  imbues  the  apology  with  earnestness  .  he  doesn’t  feel  anything  .    “  you’re  right  .  i’m  sorry  .  ” the  acquiescence  is  given  to  soothe  lightning’s  anger  ,  but  its  purpose  is  somewhat  ambiguous  .  daniel  can  barely  decide  what  he  is  agreeing  to  and  what  he  is  apologizing  for  .  perhaps  it  is  this  :  you’re  right  ,  i  don’t  understand  .  it  is  also  :  i’m  sorry  i  can’t  make  myself  do  this  for  you  .  it’s  the  first  thing  of  any  importance  he’s  had  to  refuse  lightning  .  the  realization  makes  him  feel  sick  . but  here  ,  because  lightning  is  holding  back  ,  because  lightning  is  being  kind  ,  daniel  makes  an  attempt  at  explanation  .  it  comes  out  almost  apologetically  :  “  i  just  —  i  don't  see  that  in  you  .  i  never  have  .  you  might  be  angry  and  possessive  and  whatever  else  you  say  you  are  ,  but  that  doesn’t  make  you  irreparable  .  you’re  just  scared  to  do  the  work  that’s  necessary  to  change  ,  because  you  can’t  imagine  an  alternate  ending  ,  because  you’ve  lost  what  you  thought  was  your  purpose  ,  so  now  your  purpose  has  become  this  …  —  this  toxic  ,  all-consuming  horror  show  .  but  i  promise  you  that  there  is  an  alternative  .  we  just  have  to  find  it  .  you’ve  just  been  stuck  in  the  same  place  for  so  long  that  you  can’t  see  that  .  but  i  can  see  it  .  you're  good  ,  lightning  .  you  could  be  so  ...  ”  he  grasps  at  language  that  conveys  the  light  he  sees  in  the  other  ,  the  passion  that  would  burn  all  the  greater  if  it  was  controlled  ,  redirected  to  desires  less  self-destructive  .  “  good  .  ”  he  finally  repeats  ,  helplessly . he  stands  motionless  as  lightning  spits  his  venom  at  him  ,  his  words  reverberating  in  daniel’s  skull  :  i  have  no  one  except  for  …  ⸻  .  no  matter  .  it  has  never  been  in  daniel’s  nature  to  run  from  that  which  is  hurting  him  ,  so  he  draws  closer  instead  ,  gentle  as  with  a  startled  animal  .  he’s  seen  lightning’s  anger  countless  times  ,  always  just  as  easy  to  materialize  as  it  is  to  melt  away  ,  but  this  anger  ...  this  is  something  else  entirely  .  “  that’s  okay  ,  ”  he  interjects  .  “  i  want  to  know  what’s  on  your  mind  .  i  asked  ,  didn’t  i  ?  ” at  the  other’s  command  ,  daniel  merely  gives  a  brusque  shake  of  the  head  ,  the  motion  not  betraying  the  desperation  that  the  request  has  ignited  .  or  never  ?  silence  fills  the  kitchen  for  a  long  beat  as  he  forces  the  panic  down  ,  makes  his  jaw  unclench  enough  to  form  words  .  “  you  don't  mean  that  .  ”  lightning's  anger  has  never  managed  to  push  him  away  before  .  today  will  not  be  an  exception  .  “  you  don't  .  ”  (  he’s  not  sure  whether  it’s  lightning  or  himself  he  is  trying  to  convince  .  he’s  not  sure  whether  either  objective  is  successful  .  )  “  i  just  pissed  you  off  and  now  you're  lashing  out  and  i’m  sorry  .”  the  number  of  apologies  that  have  been  exchanged  between  the  both  of  them  is  almost  comical  ,  he  thinks  absentmindedly  .  if  a  tree  falls  in  a  forest  and  all  of  the  culprits  apologize  for  felling  it  ,  can  the  sound  of  its  destruction  be  ignored  ?  if  they  are  both  repentant  enough  ,  will  they  be  able  to  erase  this  entire  conversation  and  start  over  ? “  we  don't  need  to  talk  about  this  anymore  .  ”  he  gives  a  brief  glance  over  his  shoulder  at  their  food  ,  now  spotted  with  his  own  blood  —  his  stomach  turns  ,  appetite  long  gone  .  “  or  eat  .  we  can  just  ...  talk  .  talk  about  something  else  .  anything  else  .  please  ,  lightning  .  i  —  i’ve  missed  you  .  ”  the  desperate  lunge  for  vulnerability  makes  him  cringe  ;  the  confession  feels  like  a  meager  offering  in  exchange  for  the  preservation  of  a  friendship  .

[scftspoken]

lovebcmbs​:

it’s  the  same  circle  all  over  again  .  both  of  them  falling  into  their  unhealthy  habits,  checking  out  who’s  gonna  cross  the  line  and  back  away  from  the  harsh  words  but  it’s  never  leaving  the  other  .  and  just  like  right  now  ,  sometimes  it’s  switching  the  topic  ;  sometimes  it’s  just  sitting  in  silence  but  neither  of  them  leaves … i  guess  it’s  the  silence  that’s  the  worst  possibility  .  it  forces  zoya’s  mind  to  wander  ,  to  think  of  what  if’s  and  should  have’s  .what  if  she  bit  her  tongue  this  time  ,  avoiding  getting  into  another  verbal  clash  with  daniel  ;  what  if  they  just  spent  their  evening  like  your  every  day  brother  and  sister  ,  with  playful  teasing  at  most  ,  without  any  bitterness  .  she  should  have  bit  her  tongue  a  lot  more  .  she  should  have  let  him  in  ,  instead  of  pushing  him  away  . and  for  once  ,  she  bites  her  tongue  .  mention  of  their  mom  is  triggering  for  her  ,  it  pushes  her  buttons  and  there’s  so  much  she  wants  to  say  ;  how  the  one  has  to  deserve  to  be  called  a  mom  .  ask  if  she  should  feel  privilaged  that  the  woman  who  birthed  her  worries  about  her  once  a  month  when  she’s  home  and  it’s  been  like  this  for  the  past  twenty  three  years  .  she  also  wants  to  laugh  .  but  instead  ,  she  empties  her  shot  ,  an  immediate  request  to  keep  the  refills  coming  .  “  i  don’t  know  .  maybe  for  the  next  twenty  three  years  i  will  .  it  doesn’t  look  like  it’s  hard  .  ”  a  bitterness  ,  but  at  the  same  time  a  slight  peak  at  her  vulnerability  .  perhaps  if  one  would  look  closely  ,  a  noticeable  hurt  their  mother’s  absence  in  her  life  caused  her  .

“  i  know  that  it  isn’t  easy  for  you  .  ”  another  concession ,  another  kindness .  daniel  wonders if  they  will  leave  this  bar  with  egos  and  hearts  unscathed ,  for  once  .  “  i  know ,  zoya  .  you  think  i  don’t  see  how  she  treats you  ?  she  isn’t  a  perfect  mother .  maybe  she  isn’t  even  a  good  one  .  ”  a  wince  passes his  features  at  the  betrayal of  the  admission ,  the  articulation  of  a  thought  that  has  been  hidden  beneath  the  surface  of  his  consciousness  for  an  indeterminate amount  of  time  . “  ⸻  but  it’s  hard  for  her  ,  too  .  you  know  that  their  marriage is  complicated  ,  that  she’s  unhappy  .  she  can  barely  stand  to  be  around  that  —  our  father  .  ”  the  alcohol  has  loosened  his  tongue  ,  and  he  kicks  himself for  the  slip-up .  around  that  man  ,  he  had  wanted  to  say  ,  drawing  a  stark  dividing line  between  his  father  and  himself  that  zoya  undoubtedly  would  have  questioned  .  what  he’s  said  instead  isn’t  much  better ,  overly  formal as  it  is  ,  but  it’s  not  the  first  time  he’s  used  the  phrase  around  zoya  .  it’s  an  inconspicuous  habit  he  picked up  sometime  in  the  recent past  ,  occasionally referring  to  their  parent  as  our  father  instead  of  dad  —  always  mentally attaching  ‘  non-biological  ’  to  his  own  side  of  the  equation  .  he’s  not  sure  if  she’s  noticed .  he’s  not  sure  if  she’s  cared  enough to  . it  is  the  need  to  distract  her  from  his  strange  choice of  words  that  has  him  speaking  more  rapidly  ,  more  candid than  he’s  been  with  her  in  a  long  time  .  “  but  she’s  trying  .  despite  all  of  it  ,  she  faces  him  once  a  month  because  she  wants  to  stay  in  our  lives  .  doesn’t  that  count  for  anything  ?  i’m  not  saying  you  have  to  be  best  friends  .  i  just  wish  you’d  try  ,  too  .  ”  if  not  for  her  sake  ,  for  mine  ,  he  does  not  dare  add  .

[scftspoken]

lovebcmbs​:

sometimes  it  felt  as  if  her  brother  was  a  stranger  ,  despite  living  under  the  same  roof  for  years  ,  despite  seeing  each  other’s  best  and  worsts  .  and  she  thinks  about  it  a  lot  ,  always  trying  to  find  a  good  enough  reason  as  to  what  drifted  them  apart.  because  when  you  think  about  it  ,  a  lot  of  the  things  standing  between  them  could  be  overlooked  ;  no  one  in  their  right  mind  would  ruin  their  relationship  with  someone  due  to  overprotectiveness  ,  yet  it  was  one  thing  that  pushed  zoya  away  . affection  ,  overprotection  ,  vulnerability-  others  would  do  everything  to  get  at  least  a  taste  of  treatment  zoya  gets  from  her  family  ,  deep  down  she  knows  it  .  but  perhaps  after  losing  one  person  she  loved  ,  it’s  easier  to  not  let  anyone  in  ;  to  force  them  to  think  she  doesn’t  deserve  them  .  it’s  a  protective  shield ,  closing  herself  of  ,  because  if  she  has  to  go  through  what  she  did  after  losing  dom ,  she  might  not  have  enough  strength  to  fight  back  . “  fuck  you  ,  daniel  .  ”  her  words  sharp  ,  as  her  body  tense  .  and  yet  again  ,  she  fights  to  not  get  triggered  ,  to  not  let  him  get  to  her.  forcing  a  smile  ,  she  only  gets  to  ask  bartender  for  a  vodka  refill  ,  giving  up  on  her  sweet  drinks  as  she  scratches  the  back  of  her  neck  ,  with  a  little  extra  force  from  her  long  nails  (  something  she  started  doing  after  dom’s  death  ,  for  whatever  reason  it  helps  her  calm  down,  relax  her  thoughts  )  .  “  it’s  really  sweet  someone’s  getting  your  blessing  for  once  .  how  long  until  you’re  going  to  decide  i’m  better  off  without  him  ,  too  ?  ”

the  profanity doesn’t  faze  him  .  he  doesn’t  even  flinch  at  it  –  not  anymore .  it  doesn’t distract  him  from  noticing  zoya  reaching  for  her  neck  ,  the  sight  of  her  long  nails  harshly  scratching  her  skin  making  him  cringe  .  he’s  not  sure  when  it  started ,  but  he’s  only  seen  her  do  it  a  few  times  –  when  she’s  in  distress  ;  when  he’s  touched  a  nerve  .  and  just  like  that  ,  the  guilt  is  overwhelming  .  he  doesn’t know  how  they  always  end  up  here  ,  how  they  manage to  bring  out  the  worst  in  each  other  .  how  his  hands  are  always  itching  to  reach  out  to  comfort her  ,  even  if  he’s  the  reason for  her  upset  . it  is  for  that  reason  that  daniel  chooses  not  to  parry  her  question with  another  soon-to-be  regret  .  instead  ,  he  lets  the  moment  for  a  retort  pass  him  by  ,  staring hard  at  the  glass  in  front  of  him  before downing  it  –  like  the  answer  to  their  longstanding impasse  will  be  found  at  the  bottom  of  it  .  he  turns  around  long  enough  to  hand  the  rest  of  their  group’s  drinks  to  mark  ,  only  giving  him  the  briefest   of  head  shakes  to  indicate  that  he  is  not  returning to  their  table  with  him  .  not  that  his  coworker  pays  him  any  mind  –  his  attention still  fully  on  zoya  ,  curiosity  morphing   into  disappointment  . daniel  drops  back  into  the  seat  next  to  zoya  ,  a  slouch in  his  posture that  he  would  never  let  their  father  witness  ,  but  that  betrays  the  exhaustion  he  feels  –  a  trace  of  offered  vulnerability  he  hopes  his  sister  will  recognize  .  after  tapping the  bar  top  twice  to  signal  to  the  bartender  that  he  needs  a  refill  ,  he  unceremoniously  drops  the  topic  they’ve  both  been  avoiding  like  a  bomb  between  them  .  “  mom’s  really  worried  about  you  ,  you  know  that  ?  what  are  you  planning  to  do  ,  avoid  her  forever  ?  ”