☯
☯ A kiss on the forehead.
"I hate you," she’d say, every time, as she felt those strong arms encircle her in the darkness of her room, with no move to resist or wriggle free. No movement at all, in fact. These moments where her face would be wet and salty and her mascara would bleed for no one to see and her voice would crack.
She’d curl up tighter as the firm and athletic body would curl around her there, and she’d feel those slightly rough lips against her forehead only vaguely as her eyes gaze emptily into the darkness, muttering incomprehensibly, and those lips would stay there, and she’d repeat, "fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," as the raven girl surrounded and embraced her with that smell of dirt and sweat and deodorant and the body wash they shared from the shower.
She’d shake as her eyes shut tightly, shivering and sobbing here, giggling through tears there, “upu, upupupu,” she’d cry, a haunting voice of a haunted little girl to contrast with that sure and confident low and silky alto voice that so caressed the ears of the world when the light shined upon her pretty face. But here she’d run, and here those powerful arms would come to greet her, and after some time neither would say a word or make a sound or even move.
What a disgusting little world. What a pathetic little girl.
>> inuiolatum
