07-22-2020, 01:01 PM
choke them on the ashes of the dreams they burned
He will never get tired of the softness of her voice. His mind has become such a loud, chaotic place that he relished anything quiet, anything that did not add to the cacophony. She was the safest thing he has found, but he was afraid of what would happen to her if he drew her too close. Even just looking at her from the space he kept between them, she was like a salve, soothing all the bruised, aching parts of him, and he realizes that will have to be enough.
He is afraid of what happens to those that are around him for too long.
He is afraid of damaging a soul that already seemed so fragile, and so perfect, and while he knew he could never protect her from everything, he also did not want to be the one inflicting the injury. Not when he could prevent it by simply leaving her alone.
“That's good,” he answers her, quiet, his eyes searching her face. Not sure if he believes her, but also understanding that there is safety in lying. “I've been...okay, too, I guess," he lies to her. And he thinks about leaving it there, thinks about not saddling her with his worries and his anxieties. But when he looks at her, at her downcast gaze, at the forelock that floats in front of her eyes (and he fights the urge to brush it away), he feels a sudden surge of trust in her.
“I made a mistake, I think,” he begins slowly, the shadows masking the worry on his face. "There was a woman that I met at the river not long ago.” He thinks of Breckin, he thinks of how she was beautiful too, in a way entirely different than Despoina. She was not the mistake – he could never consider her a mistake. The mistake was himself; the mistake of letting him think he could be normal, the mistake of not considering the consequences of his actions. “I think I'm going to be a father,” he finally blurts out, the words rushed and tumbled even though they remain swathed in darkness, “and I think I'm going to be really bad at it.”
He is afraid of what happens to those that are around him for too long.
He is afraid of damaging a soul that already seemed so fragile, and so perfect, and while he knew he could never protect her from everything, he also did not want to be the one inflicting the injury. Not when he could prevent it by simply leaving her alone.
“That's good,” he answers her, quiet, his eyes searching her face. Not sure if he believes her, but also understanding that there is safety in lying. “I've been...okay, too, I guess," he lies to her. And he thinks about leaving it there, thinks about not saddling her with his worries and his anxieties. But when he looks at her, at her downcast gaze, at the forelock that floats in front of her eyes (and he fights the urge to brush it away), he feels a sudden surge of trust in her.
“I made a mistake, I think,” he begins slowly, the shadows masking the worry on his face. "There was a woman that I met at the river not long ago.” He thinks of Breckin, he thinks of how she was beautiful too, in a way entirely different than Despoina. She was not the mistake – he could never consider her a mistake. The mistake was himself; the mistake of letting him think he could be normal, the mistake of not considering the consequences of his actions. “I think I'm going to be a father,” he finally blurts out, the words rushed and tumbled even though they remain swathed in darkness, “and I think I'm going to be really bad at it.”
torryn
