02-19-2020, 03:53 PM
It pains him to think of her in hiding.
Pains him even more greatly that she should think the world was moving on without her.
He wants to tell her that she is wrong, that the world did not merely move on without her but limped. Staggered. Trudged along because it did not have her to carry it. Because the world had known that she was not moving along with it. His beautiful sister, his arguably better half.
But he says none of these things because he has never a poet. He has never been anything but a steadfast companion. He has never had anything to offer anyone except the idea that, should he be around, they would never have to be alone. But then he’d left and he hadn’t thought about who it might hurt. And he curses their father for this. For the fact that he has never been able to not leave the things he’s loved.
“I’m sure the world missed you,” he murmurs and then smiles, a quiet, slanted thing.
Had he meant to keep things from her? She reaches out to touch him and he is consciously aware of the gesture but he feels nor the warmth nor the softness of the mouth she touches him with. It puts another pang in his chest, a hurt that rattles his ribcage and the useless thing that lies on the floor of it.
He does not drawn in a breath to steady himself, though he wishes he could. Just stands there and shifts his gaze to the ground, stares hard at the earth underfoot.
“Keiran’s gone,” he whispers and the voice shakes beneath the terrible weight of the admission. The weight he’s been carrying. “I couldn’t save her.” He rolls a shoulder in kind of a shrug, though there is nothing casual about it. Still, he does not look Kennice in the eye. “There was a call to the beach and I answered it. I found her in the afterlife, Keiran. She was okay. She forgave me, but...” He shakes his head, goes quiet a long moment before summoning the nerve to continue, “the damage was already done. When I came back, I was...” he shakes his head, “this.”
Pains him even more greatly that she should think the world was moving on without her.
He wants to tell her that she is wrong, that the world did not merely move on without her but limped. Staggered. Trudged along because it did not have her to carry it. Because the world had known that she was not moving along with it. His beautiful sister, his arguably better half.
But he says none of these things because he has never a poet. He has never been anything but a steadfast companion. He has never had anything to offer anyone except the idea that, should he be around, they would never have to be alone. But then he’d left and he hadn’t thought about who it might hurt. And he curses their father for this. For the fact that he has never been able to not leave the things he’s loved.
“I’m sure the world missed you,” he murmurs and then smiles, a quiet, slanted thing.
Had he meant to keep things from her? She reaches out to touch him and he is consciously aware of the gesture but he feels nor the warmth nor the softness of the mouth she touches him with. It puts another pang in his chest, a hurt that rattles his ribcage and the useless thing that lies on the floor of it.
He does not drawn in a breath to steady himself, though he wishes he could. Just stands there and shifts his gaze to the ground, stares hard at the earth underfoot.
“Keiran’s gone,” he whispers and the voice shakes beneath the terrible weight of the admission. The weight he’s been carrying. “I couldn’t save her.” He rolls a shoulder in kind of a shrug, though there is nothing casual about it. Still, he does not look Kennice in the eye. “There was a call to the beach and I answered it. I found her in the afterlife, Keiran. She was okay. She forgave me, but...” He shakes his head, goes quiet a long moment before summoning the nerve to continue, “the damage was already done. When I came back, I was...” he shakes his head, “this.”
kensley
I WORSHIPED AT THE ALTAR OF LOSING EVERYTHING