12-23-2020, 11:55 PM
i think i'm better on my own but i get so lost in you
He is young and handsome, with eyes that ache and a voice to match. She understands almost immediately why her sensitive and caring daughter had been drawn to him. From anyone else Desire would have found Hourglass’s need to fix everyone to be a severe character flaw, but coming from her daughter, she could see it for what it was. Hourglass so desperately did not want to be seen as the fragile, glass-girl that she was; she wanted to prove that she could heal other's wounds at the expense of her own, to show that she could shoulder the weight of the world and not crack beneath it.
She is certain Hourglass had been drawn to the innate sorrow of this boy, followed it like a moth to the flame, and she would let her wings burn if it meant offering him even an ounce of relief from whatever it was he struggled with.
Desire does not feel that same thing looking at him.
In fact, there is not an ounce of pity to be found as she stares at his bruised eyes and takes in the sweet ache of his voice. Instead, there is anger, and it sparks in the dark caverns of her chest and dares to crawl up her throat, until she is biting back the sharp words she wants to spit at him.
He could play his games with someone else, and she decides, in that moment, he would make sure that he at least loses this one.
She fixes a frown to her daughter's face, lets the air between them grow tense. “Oh.” She drops the word, heavy like a stone onto the ground between them, followed by another taut pause. “I guess I can't really relate,” her tone is oddly flat, lacking the warmth it usually had. “I don't run away from things, but I suppose the difficult path isn't for everyone.”
She is certain Hourglass had been drawn to the innate sorrow of this boy, followed it like a moth to the flame, and she would let her wings burn if it meant offering him even an ounce of relief from whatever it was he struggled with.
Desire does not feel that same thing looking at him.
In fact, there is not an ounce of pity to be found as she stares at his bruised eyes and takes in the sweet ache of his voice. Instead, there is anger, and it sparks in the dark caverns of her chest and dares to crawl up her throat, until she is biting back the sharp words she wants to spit at him.
He could play his games with someone else, and she decides, in that moment, he would make sure that he at least loses this one.
She fixes a frown to her daughter's face, lets the air between them grow tense. “Oh.” She drops the word, heavy like a stone onto the ground between them, followed by another taut pause. “I guess I can't really relate,” her tone is oddly flat, lacking the warmth it usually had. “I don't run away from things, but I suppose the difficult path isn't for everyone.”
i think i'm better on my own but i'm so obsessed with you
desire
