[open] that day even the sun was afraid of you; any

[firion]

that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried

There’s a growing honesty in the look her gives her, something taking root underneath the need for him to forget everything that happened the night before. Her orange eyes are piercing and they slice through him, cutting straight to the core. It leaves him feeling defenseless and agitated and ready to just lay all of his cards on the table. Maybe she would understand, he thinks for a second, before remembering that even he does not fully understand what he’s dealing with—what he’s facing. How could he possibly expect her to?

He doesn’t say anything, letting her words fill the silence between them.

Letting them fall apart on the edges as he struggles to make his way around it.

Finally though he takes a small step forward, an olive branch as best as he can manage, still holding her gaze. “It’s constant for me too,” his voice is quieter as he tries to work his way through the tangles of his thoughts, of his fears, of the things that he still holds away in the darkest corners of himself. “I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop running.” This feels so close to the heart of the truth that he can practically feel the singe marks on his palms, can practically taste the ash on the tip of his tongue.

He shakes his head and swallows, tries to work up a smile and fails.

Instead he musters a simple shrug that feels hollow.

“I guess maybe I should learn to live with it though, right?”

What he doesn’t say is that he’s not sure that he has a choice anymore.

so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried