#protovelvet

[morioriinvictus]

📲 | punishment: are you ready to man up and have a conversation yet

📲 | punishment: or are you just gonna keep taking jabs and throwing bottles and pray that i lash out

[@protovelvet]

[morioriinvictus]

💬…

📲 | luis: look, can you just let me know if you made it home alright?

📲 | luis: middle finger emoji is an acceptable answer.

[@protovelvet]

[morioriinvictus]

📲 | luis: stay away from him.

📲 | luis: i’m not asking.

[@protovelvet]

[morioriinvictus]

📲 | luis: can we try this one more goddamn time without it breaking down into a screaming match?

📲 | luis: please.

[@protovelvet]

[morioriinvictus]

📲 luis: hey.

💬 …

📲 luis: thanks for… uh… you know. dragging my sorry ass home last night.

📲 luis: you don’t have to reply. just wanted you to know i appreciated it is all.

💬 …

📲 luis: and you were right, for what it’s worth. about everything.

[@protovelvet]

[morioriinvictus]

it’s a bad idea and he knows it. better to let sleeping dogs lie. no use in beating a dead horse back to life, as luis had so poignantly said, and probably had no idea how right he truly was. but there was far too much left unsaid, too much goddamn pride to let it go without getting to say his piece. self-destruction didn’t listen to logic, and self-preservation had long been buried in the dirt six feet under. the line between coming off desperate versus vengeful was blurred, but luis owed him that much.

no good would come of this. nothing productive or positive or tangible to absolution, and yet… he couldn’t keep reliving the split second flash of the loyalty draining from luis’ eyes that came to him like the grim reaper knocking on his door. his most trusted, his hand, his chosen one… dreams snuffed out with the crash of his spine through a table and the nail in his coffin with the crack of steel to his skull. a fitting end for the monster he’d unleashed within himself, and a beginning for the one he— they had created in damian priest. hollow and empty, a wounded animal was a dangerous one, but adam wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

his phone lights up from its place on the table next to him, an incessant buzzing that draws his attention away from the crackling wood and glowing embers of the fire pit near his feet. a brief glance, and then his throat burns hot, gripping the glass bottle in his hand while anxiety coils in the pit of his stomach. a second passes, then another, allowing the phone to ring until it seemed entirely too impossible to avoid. luis’s deep voice filters through the speaker in a way that feels like fingers tightening around his throat, casually indignant until the bitter end. motherfucker.

“i had to see if you were still a man of your word,” he drawls by way of greeting after a long moment, bitterness on his breath. “how much time did i buy myself?” @protovelvet

[morioriinvictus]

why i oughta-!!