@battleboned said: ❝ that night i put my youth in a casket and buried it inside of me. ❞ @ potter
HE SHIFTS AROUND IN HIS SEAT , evident discomfort cycling over his features like a picture book. they aren’t these people. they don’t talk about things like this. they bicker and banter and call bullshit sometimes , most often drunk and sometimes high on something else entirely. but they don’t talk about where it hurts. in that , they have always been a sacred place for one another , and the irony has never been lost on james. however , what is also not lost on him is the current state of things. there is nowhere else to run. IT HURTS EVERYWHERE.
❛ and you think it’s safe there ? you think it’ll last ? ❜
he could admit he was too afraid to do the same. the idea of abandoning his youth in any form terrifies him to no end , feeling as though he would lose himself entirely if he were to try. even simply to store it , the very concept of parting with his most cherished possession —especially now , when he’s lost so much else— is not something he can rectify in his mind. he doubts his father would disagree too , if he were here that is. james has sent him far too many letters since the funeral , each of them unanswered and covered in water stains.
fuck.
❛ i’m not ready to bury anything else , honestly. i think my hands need the break. ❜ my heart too.
