𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙎 , 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙎 ; dulled by streetlights , fog and moths swirling around the bulbs . there are crickets in the perfectly manicured lawns . their chirping is the only sound , other than the low rumbling of his motorcycle , that can be heard for miles in this brain - rotting suburban nightmare .
the atmosphere , however , is worthwhile . you’d snuck out the window , catching your tights on the trellis , and jumping on the back of his bike with your heels hooked on your index finger , silently cackling at the invigoration of rebellion . he doesn’t know how refreshing the humidity and cold wind feels when you’re clutching to his jacket for dear life - but he’ll learn , soon enough .
he pulls off to the side of the road , by a 7 - 11 ( not your usual one , but a comforting haunt ) , to get snacks ready for your getaway . you’ve got a backpack full of clothes on one shoulder , and credit cards your parents have forgotten about tucked inside ; you don’t know when the two of you are planning on coming back . maybe in a few days , maybe next week , maybe never - it’s spring break , nobody will notice you’ve vanished into thin air , leaving nothing more than a trail of cigarette smoke swallowed by the exhaust of each family man trapped in their cookie - cutter routine in the morning .
you steal a cigarette from his front pocket ( hand sliding in quickly , unwilling to find your stash in your packed bag ) , and hold it between your lips , pouting outwards in a silent demand that you’re sure he understands . and he does ; flipping open his zippo , flicking a spark to light , singing the tip of your cigarette before getting out his own and pressing it to the embers of yours .
you make a damn good pair , like this . when there’s no more outside influence , just the two of you - you used to think you knew power . standing at the side of the red queen , you thought that was the height of monarchy ; with a pointed finger , anyone would’ve done your bidding , you were untouchable . now , you know , that was a child’s idea of reigning force - this is true power .
this is true strength , he is raw energy , and this time , nobody can stop you . you’d like to see them try ; you , with your dead - perfect aim . him , with his blood running steel . you think the rest of them have given up trying to control you . you think even he knows now that he’s unleashed a beast inside you , one that bestows no mercy - he can’t control you , but he wouldn’t want to . he simply wants you borrow your fire , light his cigarette .
once the toxins are sucked down to the butt , he grabs you by the waist and lifts you off the bike - unnecessary , but a show of strength for his lady . a hand in yours , you stumble ( half high off the haze of freedom , half drunk on the sweetness of young love ) backwards into the heavenly light of the gas station snack parlour -
and you imagine a day where the two of you were never seen again .
@shotblanks asked : [ lit ] your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine .
