THEY SPELLED BAD IDEAS WITH THE smoke they exhaled, and for some time it had only been that. griffin had looked at vincent and seen that chaos in his eyes that had once resided in his own bones, and he still craved it — he was part human, part storm, and dancing with the latter had never resulted in anything but disaster. but if vincent was griffin’s disaster, it was a risk he was willing to take.
not ever having had a childhood had left footprints on griffin’s heart, and feelings were still a worryingly growing concept for him. his father had taught him to kill it — to kill any part of himself that was human or even longed to be, and kieran had. but kieran was gone, and griffin could allow himself to breathe again, and maybe that was what terrified him most. he had looked at vincent once and seen hurricanes that made the world weep, but now he was ready to combat all of them: he would drown to be part of vincent’s apocalypse and maybe that was his biggest flaw when it came to the other. the undeniable pull, the blurred lines, the emotions that weren’t allowed: all of it crashing down upon griffin, and whilst he know he should’ve minded, and he should’ve kept his distance, rules seemed insignificant where vincent was involved. the tension was enough to cut through with a knife.
he couldn’t remember who had pitched the idea anymore — not between his palpitating heart and sweaty hands as they stood in the queue. he allowed himself to glance up at the ferris wheel on which they’d be sitting, pressed against each other, pretending it was fine and that it meant nothing: that there were no sparks, no fire ( when they both knew they were pouring gasoline, waiting to watch the world erupt into flames ). «well ..» griffin muttered as the ferris wheel creaked, and seemed to sway by its minimum movement alone, «i guess this isn’t such a bad way to go.»
closed ⤷ @smthngod.