06-20-2017, 10:33 AM
He longs for her closeness, her devotion and her comfort, but the overwhelming feeling of his own selfishness and guilt plague his tender thoughts. Unworthy, undeserving, and unfit. The words settle in his mind, their sharp claws digging in and holding tight, slamming into him with full force. He feels like all of the air has left his lungs, he feels empty and devoured, nothing but shattered bone and thin, sinewy muscle. He had not expected for his attachment to become so problematic; though, how could it not? His need for reassurance of his value, his need for closeness and support had been tainted, beginning with that night on the mountain that seems so very long ago. She didn’t know that her need for his friendship would mean something different to him, something twisted and almost unhealthy. How would she know that he would try to feed off her care for him, when he didn’t know it would happen himself?
Ellyse had tried. She saw the signs, not in him, but herself, of something that was far too much for either of them. She is logical, so had stepped herself away from the situation so that it would not come to anything that would pierce the cord of their bond, but even in her attempt to keep them safe, he still was able to cause strain onto both of them.
He is thankful that she allows his touch, his lips searching the pale gold of her cheek as it nourishes him, giving him new strength that he knew would only bring that terrible pang of hope. He tries to push it down with a hard swallow in his throat, knowing that the sensation of hope would only bring him the familiar pain of loss, feeling her become tense beneath his touch as his words find her. He is not worthy of her commitment and time, even now beneath the soft starlight that he belongs in. He knows this fully, but he is selfish, and the promise of closeness to soothe the ache in his chest is enough for him to pursue it, to chase down a dream that he believes only she can fulfill for him. He cannot make himself happy, only the intimacy of her friendship, the ache in her voice as she tries to comfort him (and herself), could do that.
He's trying to tell her, trying to convince her that the precarious situation that he has thrown themselves into will not end well, he is not who she would ever want, but he knows he is not trying hard enough. He refuses to speak plainly, to say that he thinks part of him is attracted to her devotion to him and that her confession of needing him brings life to the parts of him that are all but numb, that he selfishly wants her to be his. However, he remains silent, the wetness of her tears dampening his cheek from where she presses against him.
‘I am not asking you to love me,’
There is a shudder as he realizes it is too late, the attachment that he has to her is there and thrumming wildly, and it frightens him to think what will happen if he is left again, even in friendship.
“I need you, too,” His voice says his confession solidly, without hesitation, for he is certain. He leans into her, breathing softly as his chest seems to loosen and relax, comfort seeping into his very being. “You are my anchor; with you I will not become lost at sea.”
Ellyse had tried. She saw the signs, not in him, but herself, of something that was far too much for either of them. She is logical, so had stepped herself away from the situation so that it would not come to anything that would pierce the cord of their bond, but even in her attempt to keep them safe, he still was able to cause strain onto both of them.
He is thankful that she allows his touch, his lips searching the pale gold of her cheek as it nourishes him, giving him new strength that he knew would only bring that terrible pang of hope. He tries to push it down with a hard swallow in his throat, knowing that the sensation of hope would only bring him the familiar pain of loss, feeling her become tense beneath his touch as his words find her. He is not worthy of her commitment and time, even now beneath the soft starlight that he belongs in. He knows this fully, but he is selfish, and the promise of closeness to soothe the ache in his chest is enough for him to pursue it, to chase down a dream that he believes only she can fulfill for him. He cannot make himself happy, only the intimacy of her friendship, the ache in her voice as she tries to comfort him (and herself), could do that.
He's trying to tell her, trying to convince her that the precarious situation that he has thrown themselves into will not end well, he is not who she would ever want, but he knows he is not trying hard enough. He refuses to speak plainly, to say that he thinks part of him is attracted to her devotion to him and that her confession of needing him brings life to the parts of him that are all but numb, that he selfishly wants her to be his. However, he remains silent, the wetness of her tears dampening his cheek from where she presses against him.
‘I am not asking you to love me,’
There is a shudder as he realizes it is too late, the attachment that he has to her is there and thrumming wildly, and it frightens him to think what will happen if he is left again, even in friendship.
“I need you, too,” His voice says his confession solidly, without hesitation, for he is certain. He leans into her, breathing softly as his chest seems to loosen and relax, comfort seeping into his very being. “You are my anchor; with you I will not become lost at sea.”
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick
@[Ellyse]