[private] i'll waste a lifetime's worth, just to cling to one more day || reagan

[Offspring]

You're looking at an absolute zero;
I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.

  He is raw - his once tethered heart set adrift to the reckless, ravenous sea of his mind. The love affair between he and Isle that had stirred a passion he long thought lost to him had come to an inevitable end, festering in the fervent, blistering flames of its demise. He had known it was coming for some time – his heart had not felt the same in so long, and he had been loath to admit it to himself, to admit it to her.  

  He had pushed Isle away, slowly, steadily.
  Uncertain of a life without her, but fearful of losing her to the greedy clutches of death.

  She would always have a piece of him - a small, splintered part of his weary, war torn heart; useless and barely beating - but the love he had once thought impervious had not been strong enough to weather the change that had wracked the entirety of his being, of his soul.

  He had been unfaithful, seeking affection and attention elsewhere, and she had been untrue, fearful of him, recoiling at his very touch as the flickering flame slowly became a raging inferno. It stirred anger and wrath from the depths of his wretched, wayward soul, and he felt powerless to overcome it – not for months, but for years - and the prowess of his potential had not been harnessed, not until another gave him the strength to rein it in.

  The memories of his torture and torment had been too much for him, and he had never wanted to burden her with the anguish of his pain. He had not trusted her for so long with it – and when he finally had, it was too little, too late. The damage had been done, as the trust had whittled away to dust, and the devotion declared burned away into ash.

  And so, a love story for the ages had faded away, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

  It is bittersweet, when the familiar glower of her vivid, viridescent gleam of her gaze meets with his own, burning a deep scarlet - not unlike the flickering of fire that had yet again lit across the surface of his marred skin. The flame is brought forth from within, surging through his veins as his once idle heartbeat thrusts itself against the confinement of its cage, as her soft and supple body presses against his own, skin to skin, bone to bone.

  She does not recoil from the heat of his touch, stirring her own to create a barrier - to prevent the fervent intensity of the ember from scalding her. Tucked beneath him, his own broad neck drapes over her, his teeth plucking at a single, solitary dry leaf entangled in the dark abyss of her tangled tresses. He is breathless for a moment, a pang of guilt rising in his belly, but it wanes in time, his heartbeat rhythmic and steady with her own.

  He has much to say, but the words are lost to him -
  The anguish he had carefully tucked away into the darkest recesses of his mind had begun to emerge, and with his cheek pressed against her neck, listening to the steady thrumming of her pulse beneath, he has begun to unravel. He has nothing to give to her, nothing to offer but his quiet, steady presence.

  He does not know if it will be enough.
  It had never been enough before.

OFFSPRING

another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.