Feb 6, 2016
@ourdearclasspresident gets a private Emily starter.
she’s blinking slowly at him, her nail file in her hand as her lips part. the questions he asks are so stupid sometimes.
“you’re not seriously asking me that, are you?”
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@ourdearclasspresident gets a private Emily starter.
she’s blinking slowly at him, her nail file in her hand as her lips part. the questions he asks are so stupid sometimes.
“you’re not seriously asking me that, are you?”
Happy Birthday babe. Ready for your birthday present? *wonk wonk*
❝ i was born ready, stud. lay it on me. ❞
pleasedon’tletitbeanotherdog.
@ourdearclasspresident:
Oh. What an ADORABLEthought.
Mike hadn’t intended for this to happen. He didn’t know that Jessica, his (ex?)girlfriend who hadn’t spoken to him in god knows how many weeks, would crop up randomly at his apartment, suddenly more than willing to talk. If he had known that, he wouldn’t have popped quite as many lortabs or drank the last of his fifth of whiskey.
It wasn’t fair. She didn’t get to just leave him for months and then come back like a goddamn guardian angel, that look of shock and concern painted on her face. She didn’t get to ASSUME things about him, about how he was dealing. What the fuck did she even know about him anymore?
Some part of him understood that his bitterness was unfounded. If Jess didn’t want him around anymore, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around like some pathetic fucking SAD SACK. She needed to deal with her own shit, he knew that. But she forfeited the right to judge him the moment that she left him alone. The company of alcohol and prescription drugs was a fine substitute for her presence anyway.
❝ Maybe. ❞ The word slipped out without substance or meaning, and he didn’t have the mental capability right now to make them convincing. This wasn’t even CLOSEto his rock bottom. Rock bottom was clutching his phone with a million unsent text messages. I t was the cold sweat clinging to his pallid skin as the liquor tried desperately to exit his system, arms held TIGHT around his own waist as he rocked back and forth, eyes staring blankly ahead as the last vestiges of hope in them fought to stay. Jess didn’t know SHITabout his rock bottom.
he’s pissed. and -- truthfully -- he has every right to be.
she didn’t mean to hurt him like this. to leave him out to dry, to let him waste away into nothing right before her very eyes. she’s not sure what hurts more -- the fact that he can’t look at her the way he used to, or the fact that she still wants to think he can.
she wants to cry, but she pushes it back. she fights off the urge to breakdown and, instead, takes charge for once. if her therapist has taught her anything, it’s that becoming her own person is the most important thing she can do right now. she can’t project her insecurities onto mike. she can’t get mad at him for something she thought he would do, but never did. and she can’t expect things to go back to normal when she’s decided she’s had enough.
she moves across the room, reaching her hand out to take the bottle from where it’s grasped in his hand. once it’s free, she sets it aside on the end table, and her fingers push her hair away from her face for the first time in she’s not sure how long.
her scars are there. present as ever. except, this time, she’s not afraid of them.
❝ let me help, ❞ she asks, her arms reaching out to hook underneath one of his. she’ll back off if he says no -- she’ll leave and never come back if he tells her how much he hates her, and never wants to see her again. but-- if there’s a hope, if there’s a chance that they can work things out, then she’d be fucking naive to let that chance go.
she loves him.
❝ at the very least, you should change, ❞ she adds, noting his state of rumpled clothes ( along with the faint smell of alcohol ).
@ourdearclasspresident
IT SCREAM
IT WANT FOOD
This isn't going to work out.
Offend my muse. Do it right now! Make them angry and frustrated and sad! | ACCEPTING
she knows. she saw this coming from a mile away. without her looks -- her pretty face, her pink lips, her rosy cheeks -- she wasn’t worth it anymore. she held no more value in his eyes.
she was nothing.
still, that doesn’t mean she can fathom how easy it is for him to drop her after what they went through. after what she went through. she looked death straight in the eye -- she was in the belly of the best for hours on end with no one there to help her, no one to save her.
and now that it’s over, he’s done. he’s ready to rid himself of her, like a jacket he’s outgrown in the span of two weeks.
❝leave,❞ she breathes, hating the way her eyes sting with tears.
DONT
[Send “DONT” to pin my muse against the wall to prevent them from LEAVING]
---
Heart in her throat and locks still and wants more than anything in that moment--a vacuum in time, stretch and stretch because time is relative--to sink into the floor and swim away from fingers digging into her arms, hard enough to leave marks.
No-one does that to her.
“Don’t touch me.”
@ourdearclasspresident
Mike may have been a bit drunk, but right in that moment, Hannah’s suggestion sounded like the idea of a century. ❝ Um, HELL yes. ❞
{her own little giggle sounds, stumbling forward as she leans into him shyly, as she bit her lip. her big eyes are hazy with alcohol, as well.}
really? you really want to?
{glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose lightly.}
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