it's strange what desire will make foolish people do; isakov

[isakov]

throw me in the water, don’t think about the splash i will create
leave me at the altar, knowing all the things you just escaped

He finds them by accident, though he would be lying if he claimed that he did not spend every  waking moment hoping to find Sleaze or that his heart did not leap so foolishly at the mere rumor of something deep purple. 

(Was this love?
Could it be?
Isakov had been built from the idea of love, the illusion of love, but he had not been built for love. He had understood this from a very young age. 
Not the kind of love that existed between his mother and the glass stallion who fashioned water from air, he knew that.)

But his heart beat for the idea that he might see Sleaze again. Might touch him again. Might lay his star-strewn head to rest on his dark shoulder and let that same stillness pass between them. 

And Fate smiles upon him, though he does not deserve it, Isakov. Because there is a darkness in him, a rot in his heart. But he is consumed instead by something else when he sees them. Two of them. The deep purple stallion and a child. Deep purple and kissed by galaxies.

A child who thinks the electricity is her pulse, pressed against Sleaze’s side as the current passes between them. 

“Sleaze,” Isakov sighs and goes to them and touches Sleaze first and then the small child huddled against his side. Theirs. And he feels the electricity, too but he is too distracted by the thing beating in his own chest to let it deter him. “She’s beautiful,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say, struck speechless for the first time in his life. 

 

isakov

@[sleaze]