❛ Do you miss me? ❜ frm bloodbuckets :’’)
ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND \ @m4limb - accepting, mutuals only
he always had this soft, low voice ; she isn’t delusional enough to think it got like that only when he spoke to her, it was just the way it was, but it’s one of the things she remembers more fondly about him. although, really, has she learned nothing ? placing him and the word ‘ fondly ’ in the same sentence together ? that’s just pure fucking self-hatred, or something of the sort anyway.
debra nods, out of instinct, her mind lulled by the seemingly simple question he poses her ; there’s nothing threatening about brian now, she looks at him and only a very faint part of her is on edge. they’re standing close, her hands holding onto one of his, and she keeps looking into his eyes ( left, right, back to his left ) trying to will away that little voice at the back of all her other thoughts that keeps fucking insisting that something is not quite right.
brian ————- rudy ? no, brian. she knows his name is brian and yet it doesn’t feel good, there’s something about it that leaves an awful, shitty aftertaste in her mouth and almost makes her double over and puke ; debra can feel her body actually, physically rejecting the idea of calling him brian even though, she tells herself very sternly, that’s his name and it’s fucking idiotic to even feel like that about a goddamn name.
“ I DO —- I JUST —– ” there’s a pause, her brows furrow as she tries to clear her mind ; there’s still that fucking something, like a word on the tip of her tongue except she knows that if this comes to her it’s going to bring a whole lot of pain along with it too. “ ----- how ? why the fuck do I miss you when you’re right fucking here ? we’re holding hands like snotty, annoying teenagers. ” her tone is nothing like his, definitely not soft ; debra is, in fact, walking very close to full pitchy-high desperation because she just doesn’t fucking understand why it feels so nice to have the smooth skin of his palm between her own two and yet have this goddamn hole in her stomach that merely keeps growing bigger as the seconds tick by.
and then, of course, it becomes clear. she blinks, not even half a second, and when she opens her eyes again she’s on her back and wrapped in plastic. thankfully, that’s also more or less where she wakes up ; heart beating out of her chest and a hand raising slowly - and shakily - so that debra can press her thumb and index finger to the side of her head and try to fight back the oncoming headache. “ fucking goddamn shit-fuck ! ”
