#dustbvwl

[mycrymes]

closed starter for @dustbvwl

" you know, i never really pegged you as someone who would shop here. what changed? "

[beingalones]

closed starter for @dustbvwl

reminders of grayson's own college years pass by him as he turns the corner in his car, students clad in glowing accessories and clearly wasted stumbling as midnight swiftly approaches. he stops the car outside the hulking house that seems to be pouring out young adults in various states of disarray, music pumping from within so loud that he swears it must be rattling the bones of the house. this is a rager if he's ever seen one and he's uneasy in his approach, passing people and hoping he won't be recognised until he reaches the steps and spots the head of dark hair he's been searching for. "cass!" he calls out to her, approaching and kneeling in front of where she sits at the bottom of the stairs. "can you walk?"

[morningpages]

✧         closed,         @dustbvwl.

         her porch light buzzed. moths battered themselves against it, bouncing off the bulb, not learning the lesson. it seemed a little allegorical to what he was doing now; not getting it through his head, still flying in a tight spiral forward. over and over, toward her. his resolve had cracked on that rotten bench, splintered clean through. that splintered will had dragged him out of his apartment tonight. he had hoped the walk here would sober him, might give him enough time to turn back, but cass' face in his minds eye kept intervening. the beauty mark beneath her mouth. the almond shape of her eyes, the way they lit up. his feet felt stuck. all roads lead here. the upper and downer in river’s system were negotiating a fragile truce, smoothing his pulse, stalling the tremor in his hands. his mind felt clear, even as the back of his throat burned chalky. clarity borrowed, clarity doomed. river weighed his options. he could still go home. this feeling was survivable. or, he could move forward, fly the spiral, get his answer, and free himself one way or another. but the front door wasn’t an option, not with her roommate. so he backed away, moths growing quieter with the distance, not from surrendering. no, they were still trying.

a second-story window glowed faintly, blinds drawn. a trellis clung to the brick beneath it, its vines dead and brittle. it felt elizabethan, placed there for him. he followed the impulse, grabbing the smallest, lightest gravel he can find, and sent it soaring. it sprayed across the window. time stretched thin. his mind supplied the disaster of her grandmother leaning out the window, shaking a bible and screaming obscenities. then—movement. the blinds shifted, and her unmistakable silhouette appeared. his heart ballooned. any resolve he’d salvaged escaped him entirely in one fell swoop. the window groaned with effort as it opened. “hi,” he said, helplessly. no armor. “i wanted to see you.” river wished he could tell her everything while confessing nothing. he felt horribly limited, not wanting to break the fragile thing they had been living inside of. he looked up at her, hands useless at his sides. “was this dumb?” his voice was rough, hopeful in spite of itself. “or… can i come up?”