#frequencydead

[intcrference]

@frequencydead​ said: ❛ Darkness never satisfies. Especially if it takes something away which it almost always invariably does. ❜ ....😔

there’s a bitter bark of a laugh, amused and sharp; “what the fuck is there to take? no one left in this town gives a shit about me, or you.” not really. not the strangers that orbit him, not the would-be ghosts in his house--and everyone knew about the lewells. amity springs could make a pretty burn mark on a map, and no one would even notice. so says the little whisper in his head, at least--and he had to admit it was making some points. and anyway, her words are too unsettling to look at so directly, even if she is delusional to be barking up this tree.

he flicks the cigarette past her into the grass and tilts his head. “you’re exhausting, lewell, you know that?” levels her with a curious look as he saunters closer, and if there’s something dark behind the eyes, it’s only for her to see. “i’m clearer than i’ve felt in a while. can you say the same?”

[dcadhand]

@frequencydead​ said: ❛ I’m so tired. Sleep’s been stalking me for too long to remember. Inevitable I suppose. ❜

“yeah--you know,” he frowns pointedly at her, “that shit’ll happen when you spend all your time obsessing over a stupid--” exasperated, he lets the folder drop to the desk without fanfare. “--stupid ghost story, dj. it’s just someone playing a joke, i don’t fucking know, but you’re starting to scare me.” he watches her for a long time, and then bleary-eyed at the frantic notes on her kitchen table.

eyes catch her’s and he suddenly pauses--and he remembers to check himself, then, watching the tired lines of her face. fingers come up to rub at temples and he exhales tension, knows damn well they’re both tired. that he can’t pretend toll of endless research isn’t grating on his mind, like his eyelids aren’t sandpaper and dust and glue. can’t pretend he wouldn’t be screaming and tearing down every available avenue if it were his sister on the missing posters. and the thought is nauseating.

but maybe you’re just as insane for playing along. he makes dismissive gesture, draws the nearby curtains like it's not some kind of equally paranoid action; “...look, i’ll stay here tonight?” he comes back around, pauses, and gives her a small, playful shoulder bump. “...you know. make sure you don’t bust out a window or something in a sleepwalking rage.” and maybe it’s only half a joke, but he offers her half smile; we’ll figure it out, okay?”