the leather of the steering wheel is cool under his gripā but itās only because blood boils beneath the surface of his skin, prickling uncomfortably in foreshadowing of what is to come. and itās impossible for him to hold back the pressure thatās building up under the sole of his foot, accelerator pushed down and seats almost flying forward with the sudden increase in speed. he allows himself this, face stoic as he weaves in and out of traffic effortlessly, ignoring the plethora of angry shouts and horns that are hurled his way. he simply canāt be bothered. these people are of no use to him. paranoia, is what they call it. when heās unable to untangle himself from the web of anxiety that weaves silk lies around him, stops him from moving, leaves him for dead. but he sees himself as none of that, tenacity and persistence, he calls it, pinning it proudly on his sleeve as he shakes hands with the devil. heās too far gone to think about the red light he runs, barely batting an eyelid as a two tonne truck barely swerves away in time for sparks to fly and ignite. only one goal is in mind. the sun. swerving recklessly into the workshop and pulling up abruptly, the skidding of tires drawing more than curious glances in his direction. he pays them no mind, theyāve always liked staring. a door is opened and heās out of the car, pressed suit, slicked up hair, but without a trace of a smile on his lips. fingers run over his own wounded hand nonchalantly as he surveys the surroundings, hoping to see a familiar tuff of hair, and he doesā under a car on a creeper. shai looksexquisiteā sweaty, dabs of oil staining parts of his skin and clothes. but aidenās not here to sightsee, as much as the younger would more than compete with the 7 wonders of the world. itās the hand embedded with glass that he picks up, throwing it across the youngerās face as hard as he can. the air is stillā save for their breathing. eyes meet and itās as electric as the first time. but aidenās turning on his heel and leaving, breaking the sacred connection and getting back into his car. āgoodā, he yells out of the window, starting the engine and racing away.
the young mechanic continues fumbling under the hood, poking even prodding; tip-toe to adjusting valves and caps over tanks. now in a pair of more grease-stained clothes he stands with nose slightly scrunched, tired eyes blinking a few times, tugging the oily rolled sleeves up and dragging his arm over his forehead to wipe away grease. despite wrapped in smallest size, only the leg portion of his grey-blue coveralls rest comfortably on his body, the top half hangs off his waist. the tight, black v-neck shirt spotted with soot and grime, and his long, rough-looking fingers give way to a good amount of time spent using his hands for hard work. replacing the ground out gears, he swaps thick and dirty oil for the new clean kind and flips the ignition until she purrs into life once more. satisfied, he allows a wide grin forming new divine lines across his face for one and two. then suddenly when he's about to finish his work, there's a loud roaring noise of high speed engine, skidding tiers scrapping the hard concrete, catching everyone's attention. he resurfaces from under the hood of the truck, wide-eyed at the familiar sight before him. aiden with well-kempt hair, dressed in slick tailored suit. his features practically glows under the sun and it takes a few seconds before he finally understands to what do he owe the pleasure of meeting him. a momentary gleam of light and the impact is surreal but expected, pretty hard but not hard enough to throw him off balance. his cheek redden under his touch and clog his throat with catarrh and cough then he watches him disappear in a split second. that's the dilemma isn't it? when you're into deep, there's a sadness and joy of only him and the uncertainty of being in such state, and the need, the lust of always wanting for the worst. he takes a huge breath as if winded. he looks torturedābut somehow pleased with zero sign of embarrassment. despite the prickling pain that stung his nerves and the strong taste and smell of iron, he remains round composed. curios eyes following and countless mouths questioning; he displays a gentle cordial smile, the one that he used too many times yet flashing odd sense of familiarity that fit his features perfectly. his body flushes at the thought of the older and the hand on his side already cupping his throbbing cheek. "It's my brother," mouth spewing lies, gaze off, chanting words of safety under his tongue, somehow he couldn't wait for them to meet again. a sick obsessionā a restless addiction, what is this again? he wonders with lids shut tight.
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
snowghoul
