#;aftermath

[ethanwoodx]

They say a man isn’t supposed to cry and Ethan Wood was no exception. Instead, even in the wake of all the death and destruction, Oliver Wood’s middle son let a bottle of Ogden’s Old cry for him as he slumped back against a thick oak tree, the neck of the firewhiskey laced tightly between his fingers. From his vantage point, Ethan could see the ruins of the stadium, an arena that had always been like a second home to the chaser and his beloved best mate. He couldn’t muster the strength to return home to their actual flat, not yet at least. Their unfinished match of pool was still fresh on the table waiting for Ethan to rack it back up as he made a ridiculous comment about Alfie moving the cue ball while they were away. He’d even bet there was a mug of old tea beside one of Alfie’s latest sketches turning as icy as his insides were right now. 

“How could you fuckin’ leave me, too?!” Ethan shouted into the fading summer air as he allowed himself a brief moment of raw human emotion. Alfie was always there for the wayward chaser and never gave up on him, not when Puddlemere rejected him or when he let his anger get the better of him. Alfie was his best friend, his teammate, his mentor, his brother, he couldn’t be just be... gone.

There was only way Ethan knew how to temper the sting and he cracked it open hungrily. Unhinging his jaw like the serpent some believed to be his true nature, Ethan brought the untouched bottle to his lips allowing it’s contents to slither down his esophagus and drop into the depths of his empty stomach without so much as a shiver, just the hunger to numb the pain for however long the bottle would allow. Ethan continued to chug as if reaching the bottom would bring Alfie back, spiraling into the oblivion he so desperately craved.

A voice called his name. At first, he didn’t budge, fixed only on his surmounting grief and the unsettling opening and closing of his own heartbeat. He wasn’t even sure if the voice was real or just a figment of his budding intoxication. It wasn’t until a second calling that Ethan turned around finally lowering the bottle down from his lips.

[gabrielxkang-blog]

Sombre Consciousness|| Open

Gabriel’s eyes fluttering open gave him no salvation in the place he was in. Something was wrong and it had nothing to do with the light feeling that the drugs had sedated him with. Nor the bustling of noises that impacted his ears like a fret train derailing. These eyes of his had recalled the dimness of his phone when the screen had went haywire and his conciousness had gone black. “Hello?”, he muttered. Freaking out was a thought when the blinking assured him he was awake. Yet the ominous murky surroundings had no light to them and everything was so much louder that processing it all at once was torturous in its own right. Perhaps drawing attention to himself was stupid and his head twisted to attention at the movement of curtains.

[affectionesque]

𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕙

@extrcvagance

   things had been draining her. she was exhausted, had no tears left to spare and no energy left within her to be nervous. with her husband gone, she was left to her own devices, uncertain at what pace she would recover from it all ( if she ever would ) and on top of that worried out of her mind about her son.

   the day after the police had showed up had been the day when she found herself alone, not a trace left of valentine aside from a small note that she had only recently found. two weeks had passed and the only reason she had not called the police yet was that she did not need more of this, that she did not need more forceful interventions in her life and that she felt like she would die on the spot if she were to see them again any time soon. 

   instead, she had decided to search his room after days had passed, hoping to find something that would help her find him. things were calmer now and maybe it was for the best that he was away from her, maybe she was rather glad that she did not have to face him after having put him through so much. alas, it was the nature of a mother that she cared and worried despite it all. so when she dialled the number she had found scribbled on a small note on his desk, she felt something causing her heart to clench at the almost immediate ‘valentine?’ she received. a brief second passed before she carefully responded, voice soft and smaller than even she seemed to remember. ❝ ---this.. is his mother. i’m sorry to bother you, but... do you know where he is? i-- he’s been gone for weeks now. ❝