03-21-2021, 01:38 AM
— and how long must I stay, will I lay by your side
just to say that I'm yours and you'll never be mine —
just to say that I'm yours and you'll never be mine —
He cuts in front of her, and there is a moment where she thinks about calling on her intangibility so that she might simply pass through him. Only, she does not want to actually leave. She is defensive and frustrated, but she does not want to be alone, and she especially does not want to be without him. No one has ever actually directed their anger at her before, and she finds that she does not like the way that it feels; that she cannot separate his anger at himself from anger at her, that the anger stings the same no matter what.
But even despite all of that, she is afraid of what might happen if he were to let her walk away—if they parted ways, again, and never found each other.
She would rather be here, with him, feeling confused and deflated, than to be away from him at all.
Her pale eyes have turned a dark, bruise-colored purple from the tears that still glitter there, and she tenses her jaw for a moment to try and regain some kind of composure. “Okay,” she relents quietly, the ache still present in her throat, but she can at least breathe around it now. Maybe once they were safe he would finally explain why he was acting so strange. Maybe once they were safe he would make sense of the storm he had created inside of her mind.
She had turned her gaze elsewhere, trying to seek out some kind of path for them to follow, when his next words bring her lilac eyes quickly back to his. He is staring at her, like he is trying to figure her out—like he is looking at a stranger, and her breath hitches for a moment when their eyes lock together. “Aureus,” her voice has softened from its previous flint-like tone from earlier, and there is a certain kind of defeat that seems to weigh itself down inside her glass chest. What had she done to make him feel this way? “Why would I not want to be with you?” she can feel the pulse of tears in her throat again, and no matter how she tightens her jaw she cannot keep them from spilling from the corners of her eyes. “I have been looking everywhere for you,” her confession comes with the trembling threat of a sob that she chokes back down, the long tendrils of her copper-colored forelock now clinging to the dampness of her face.
She looked for him in all the places she thought he might be, and even all the places she thought he would never be. She looked for him until she finally had to accept the fact that he did not want to be found, and even then that did not stop her foolish glass heart from leaping at every pale flash of skin caught in the corner of her eye.
She can feel a desperate kind of determination begin to flare inside of her, and as badly as she wants to once again demand that he tell her why he has suddenly turned her into an entirely different person, she refrains. Instead, she only closes her eyes, closes them long enough to steady her breathing and slow the tears that she no longer has any control over, and when she opens them she tells him earnestly, “Even when you're acting like this, I want to be with you.”
But even despite all of that, she is afraid of what might happen if he were to let her walk away—if they parted ways, again, and never found each other.
She would rather be here, with him, feeling confused and deflated, than to be away from him at all.
Her pale eyes have turned a dark, bruise-colored purple from the tears that still glitter there, and she tenses her jaw for a moment to try and regain some kind of composure. “Okay,” she relents quietly, the ache still present in her throat, but she can at least breathe around it now. Maybe once they were safe he would finally explain why he was acting so strange. Maybe once they were safe he would make sense of the storm he had created inside of her mind.
She had turned her gaze elsewhere, trying to seek out some kind of path for them to follow, when his next words bring her lilac eyes quickly back to his. He is staring at her, like he is trying to figure her out—like he is looking at a stranger, and her breath hitches for a moment when their eyes lock together. “Aureus,” her voice has softened from its previous flint-like tone from earlier, and there is a certain kind of defeat that seems to weigh itself down inside her glass chest. What had she done to make him feel this way? “Why would I not want to be with you?” she can feel the pulse of tears in her throat again, and no matter how she tightens her jaw she cannot keep them from spilling from the corners of her eyes. “I have been looking everywhere for you,” her confession comes with the trembling threat of a sob that she chokes back down, the long tendrils of her copper-colored forelock now clinging to the dampness of her face.
She looked for him in all the places she thought he might be, and even all the places she thought he would never be. She looked for him until she finally had to accept the fact that he did not want to be found, and even then that did not stop her foolish glass heart from leaping at every pale flash of skin caught in the corner of her eye.
She can feel a desperate kind of determination begin to flare inside of her, and as badly as she wants to once again demand that he tell her why he has suddenly turned her into an entirely different person, she refrains. Instead, she only closes her eyes, closes them long enough to steady her breathing and slow the tears that she no longer has any control over, and when she opens them she tells him earnestly, “Even when you're acting like this, I want to be with you.”
hourglass
— with this love like a hole,
swallow my soul —
swallow my soul —