did someone order a pair of hot messes @crushego
you know just because we were born here, doesn’t mean we end up here. she’d said it to ian moments before she left, and now she thinks it again when she finds herself face - to - face with his brother, with lip. she almost walks past him, whether on purpose or accidentally. it’d sound so much fuckin’ better to claim it would’ve been by accident, that there was a world where she walked down the street and didn’t instantly recognize him, didn’t feel onslaught of emotions and memories and broken words fleshed into one jumbled mess. it feels like dunking her head in cold water when he meets her gaze, like she’s naked and vulnerable all over again, tear - stained and fucked up as he holds her face and tells her she’s beautiful. did he mean it ? she’d believed him then, but it always lingered in the back of her mind : he said what he needed to say at the moment. and it didn’t — shouldn’t matter anymore.
❝ hey. ❞ it sounds empty, pretentious, stupid. all those fuckin’ years and all she could muster up was that ? it’d been months since she’d run into him back at the house, when she’d left in a hurry, in a panic. what would he think of her ? what would she think of him ? the cold air bites at her skin, she should’ve brought her coat. fuck. she hadn’t been in chicago since that day, having grown used to the warm embrace of the west coast. ❝ sorry, fuck. i should — didn’t meant to interrupt your, ❞ free hand gestures vaguely, ❝ whatever. ❞










