* corrosive.
for: @regancr timeline: after current event.
you’ll regret this, the dragon whispers into his ear, and he’d concede it’s probably right — it always is when it comes to her — yet listening to common sense was never one of his virtues ( he prides himself on it ). perhaps that explains why he excuses himself from the school without a word, ignoring his girlfriend and friends ( a given ever since things were slowly beginning to fall back into some level of normalcy, yet still unable to meet their eyes with an uncharacteristic emotion twisting in his gut ) for the morning and finding himself at the station, awaiting the arrival of someone whose presence falls akin to a shadow upon his very being.
maybe he’s running, can one blame him ?
where can he go — home, he wants to say out loud, yet with nowhere specific to turn to. what does it mean then, when he instead seeks out the one person he should leave very well alone. is home a person, one with a sharp gaze who shares memories of playgrounds and childish delights, or is it a simple coincidence, turning to the one whom hadn’t been around for the mess involving mothers and daggers ?
yet, leaving behind one mess for another, it’s all games in this new scenario. cat and mouse, push and pull, one squeezing the other’s throat until their lungs demand retribution and the simplicity of air — he hates it. despises it down to the very core of his essence, where sits a rotting sensation in his chest and a quiet plea to be held, as he finds himself willingly falling back into a pattern of deceit and destruction.
happy endings sold separately.
cross his heart and hope to die, he does hate it ——— so much so, his fingers tingle with the sensation of stolen kisses pressed gently upon the skin, heart racing to the beat of a song whose lyrics remain forgotten, nostalgia blossoming at the forefront of his mind; this fuels the exhausted desperation, ignited with thoughts to close a distance that sits undefined between them, jump starting the cycle each time. they both know his hand will reach out to stroke the ghost of a confession upon her cheek when loneliness runs high in his veins and slowly, yet inevitably, he’ll lean in.
everytime.
[ HATE ]
and like always, he swears it’ll be different this time, sparing a moment to think of whom he’ll go back to after this funk is over. his eyes catch on the familiar form before he can register he’s found exactly whom he seeks, and the small burst of affection plants itself in his thoughts on its own. he pushes himself off from the beam that’d been ‘home’ the last little while he’d been waiting in silent fashion, conveying his usual mask of nonchalance as hands remain tucked in the pockets of his jeans.
“welcome back.” maybe here he should smile, let it grow across slightly chapped lips and offer some semblance of normality, eyes crinkling in the signature way he’s taught himself how. perhaps he should say more, offer some sort of explanation as to why he’s found himself awaiting her arrival instead of offering the simple greeting back at the school like usual.
instead he welcomes silence and leans forward to take her bag into his grasp, turning to face the direction of the exit in lieu of locking eyes in greeting. have fun ? how was paris ? didn’t know you were leaving. about a hundred things on some scale of normal he could ask. which is why it’s no surprise quiet accusation awakens to haltingly voice, “you really left.”
straight to the point, it is.