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what don't i know about you? /sue bc im greedy

his hand was tangled into her golden blonde locks, his lap was nice and perfectly warm — sue had parked herself right against it after coming home from a long two days at the lab. she was sighing, his fingers dug into her scalp, massaging it. her words catch bruce off guard, his upper lip curl slightly, his dark brows pinch at his forehead. ❝ too much. ❞

@self-1ess

#self 1ess #❚ 𝐢.⠀⠀···⠀⠀𝒃. 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆.⠀⠀:⠀⠀writing.#i love them already #i am knee deep #SCREAMING

　　　　　𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙽　　　　⚓　　　　@self-1ess 　　　　　　　　For what it’s worth,　I hate myself.

It’s not worth very much,　no.　As if such vulnerable admission could make up for whatever the fuck this back-and-forth is doing to him　⸻　as if it could make it go away.　And so it insists upon himself that he does not look to Sam,　and he does thereby not allow the equally fragile glassiness of his eyes to reflect such rugged countenance.　Whatever pools,　he knows it cannot be tears,　the fickle little things,　and he knows furthermore that he is much better than to weep for another man.　No matter what he is doing,　no matter what he will do.　Sam is not worth that much.

The rain.　It patters against the window,　gathers in a slough on the sill.　A gentle cascade to contrast vividly against the deafening roar of thunder to follow,　the acerbic strikes-down of lightning,　every spindly white vein illuminating the night sky.　He is stuck here with him,　that Dae-ho is,　and neither the aggression nor the vague approximation of tenderness can soothe the perturbation flaring wildly in his chest.　They could engage in the violence,　throw firm-knuckled punches and grab and tug and pull until it means something;　it won’t,　it never will,　and when the adrenaline tapers off into nothingness,　the thorns of having lost himself will dig in.　Indent the flesh.　Make him feel something besides the unpleasantry.　

❛❛　You　—　do you think that changes fucking anything?　❜❜　Maybe the joke is on him,　and it will be him directing his greatest sympathies to Sam.　He will tell a story and Dae-ho will listen,　tilt his head as to convey his understanding,　force the niceties that fight to burst forth from his ribcage.　Maybe it is a matter of spinning circumstances into reverse.　Sam hates himself,　and so he seeks out Dae-ho as guilty pleasure.　Something　(someone)　he shouldn’t be doing and yet he does anyways.　Vice-grip of Dae-ho’s throat constricts,　voice forced into a breathy whine.　❛❛　You’re an asshole.　❜❜

(And you want him,　so what does that make you?)

#🐯 [ … ] delineation ⚓ i’ll show you what it means to be a real man.#self 1ess