IT WAS EASIER when all he had to enjoy were fights that had them both kicking sand. it was easier without this cloying sentiment that gathered in grains & SOLIDIFIED into rocks. this language was different than screams bordered by fangs & hands that sported talons.
something very rare flickered in his gaze. the acid in his eyes dissolved, the fragile surface of verdant catching the sunlight. it would have been impossible to miss wide eyes, caught without the barriers & walls church had laid out with his own bricks.
he forced himself to breathe & it steadied his hands.
lips curved in a loose smile. he remembered how he should SPEAK, the bright levels of sarcasm his tongue should soak in every time he said a word. whatever moment was there was already gone with the wind.
‘ just in this moment, burnie ? really feeling the love tonight. ’
any thoughts drenched in warmth he refused to resurrect. even this, had to end.
there’s no limit, no limit, to how deep their claws dig into flesh. sharpened blades fashioned out of knowledge hurt. they break through skin & they tear through too easily – the people who know you best always hurt you the most.
- ALTERED STATE OF MIND
HE SHOULDN’T be drinking. he remembered that, but he didn’t know why.
it was late. he fumbled for the second bottle of whatever-the-fuck, padding through cloth, then falling onto carpet until it clinked awkwardly against cool glass. the bottle felt heavy in his hands, but he lifted it to his lips.
liquid didn’t flow. the fire he was expected escaped his throat & whatever was inside sloshed against the cap. clumsy fingers stumbled after the bottle opener, diving underneath the folds of what he vaguely understood to be a comforter. he felt the edges of his phone instead & he kept it close to him. he had two hands. the other kept searching.
this wasn’t like last time. last time, he had gone through the pitch of night, walking several miles-worth of evenly spaced streetlamps & cookie-cutter houses looking for a glimpse of blonde hair & a hastily thrown on sweater that wasn’t hers. last time, he had nearly frozen. it was either the winter winds or the black worry that fogged his mind. his fingertips too numb to register pain as he crawled on his hands and knees. he had nearly dug through banks of snow, half-lucid part of his mind worried she might have disappeared under the snow. he came back home to find her there & she had yelled. her voice was raw. angry. infested with electrified rage that was half-his because nothing belonged to her just as nothing belonged to him, not when they shared the same life. she had jabbed her fingers underneath his collar & pulled him close. their faces nearly touched, like dendrites & axons. he remembered her breath clearly because it tasted oddly of regret & he knew it wasn’t his.
this was different. he was warm, swaddled underneath the desert heat, mouth dry as bone. he had been drinking like he was drinking water & now, there was no water to e found. it didn’t help – but he was safe, at the very least. confined as he was by four plaster walls & a door he promised to lock.
he should be working. sleeping. same difference.
the bottle slipped from his grasp & he waited for the sharp glass-shatter, but it didn’t happen. he released the breathe building up in his lungs. he waited some more. the bed’s balance was upset & it tilted to one side. he followed the motion as everything lurched & maybe he would have fallen on the floor too. he wasn’t even sure if he would be able to tell at that point.
church focused on trying to breathe through the hazy recollections of coming home, raiding the fridge & closing the door behind him. a click never followed.
he tried to imagine him choosing this. even as he laid against the warm bed & even warmer sheets, he still tried to imagine iron fences & a loud, clear voice that rattled his mind. he followed the path she had burned through his mind, a channel of dark & light memories that were always charred & fed into the fire. he would think, in his own space, he would be alone. that his thoughts would be the one thing that would remain his, but it’s not.
how many times had he dreamed of her laying next to him. how many times had her smile felt so perfectly real that he could feel it wash over him every time he drowned himself in oblivion. she had clawed her way from hellfire & strife, standing tall with her back towards him until she turned around just for him. how many times would reality slam against his head then, pounding fiercely in the first morning’s light
he burrowed deeper underneath the layer of buzzing warmth. whatever he rested on didn’t move for a moment, but eventually something trailed through his hair & pushed away damp strands.
he sighed. it wasn’t cold here, even though he wondered if the world was on fire because now it was just too fucking hot, but the blanket was surprisingly thick & cushioned him at the same time it kept him trapped. unable to move, church brought his phone up close, the brilliance of technology’s finest blinding him.
blinking away the blurry lights, he relied on his muscles to remember her number.
CONTACT» BURNEE
[ SMS. ] alison i mi ss you
the phone clattered onto the bed.
very slowly, he followed as well, breaths evening & deepening as the pull of sleep became stronger than his will to be aware that the world existed. he didn’t know if he hit anything afterwards.
- SECRET
CONTACT » BURNEE
[ SMS. ] I’m sorry.[ SMS. ] You shouldn’t have seen that.
when he looks at her, who does he see? does he see tex, beta, allison? which one does he picture when he catches glimpses of that dark armor and those blue eyes? she's always wanted to ask him that. there isn't time for it now, but it's always been on her mind.
in all honesty, there’s no real answer. alpha can’t remember who the hell beta was. he can’t even remember who he is. all his memories came from the director and every single memory he forged himself as an independent unit, the director took and smashed to pieces.
he’ll say he sees tex like he actually knows who she is. he doesn’t. not really. he doesn’t until she comes back and something - something he doesn’t know what lodges back into place and oooh right. tex. yeah. her. that lady he wanted to propose to but never did. why does he remember a wedding and child?? must be a ghost thing.
he remembers her as his girlfriend. he has no idea of what they went throught. what they both went through. allison? who’s allison? why is she important? why does he want to cry? why does he want to move heaven and earth for allison? there’s only tex and he loves tex.
but at the same time. who is tex? why is tex important again? when did him & tex meet.
he doesn’t have much by way of names. he only knows her as the woman he loves. it doesn’t matter what armour she wears, if she’s a fragment or a whole ai - she’ll always be the woman he loves. always.
when tex asks who he is. he answers they used to be together because no matter what, they were together until they were apart. names don’t matter. not when he can’t make sense of them.
