04-17-2020, 01:54 AM
Those first moments back with his father had been the worst in his life. Nightlock’s initial grief and confusion had made Thorn so nauseous it took days to eat again. He didn’t think there would ever be another like that—he thought that he could get used to the weight of the ones he adored the most but—
Here Prayer stands, bearing the silks of a rosy childhood friend, and it wrenches his chest in ways he didn’t know existed. Even the simplest, unselfish kind of love is tainted by his curse. He would be angry if he could feel something other than Prayer’s heart splitting in two. Thorn genuinely cannot remember what happiness feels like. When he sees this face that brought him so much joy, all he can feel is the pain he causes her.
Thorn would take dying again over bearing such knowledge.
Prayer asks her questions and he does not interrupt, simply standing while the curse’s gash weeps faster so near another’s pain. Thorn wants to drag her to beneath his neck and tell her it will be okay. To know what a touch like that feels like one more time—oh! just once—before banishing himself to the bottom of some shadowed lake. He wishes to convince her entirely that this hole in his chest is meant to be there, that he is the boy from the river—
Oh, to know his differences cause her suffering.
“You can’t,” Thorn finally coughs out. “You can’t.” This time more defeated.
“Magic won’t fix it.”
Here Prayer stands, bearing the silks of a rosy childhood friend, and it wrenches his chest in ways he didn’t know existed. Even the simplest, unselfish kind of love is tainted by his curse. He would be angry if he could feel something other than Prayer’s heart splitting in two. Thorn genuinely cannot remember what happiness feels like. When he sees this face that brought him so much joy, all he can feel is the pain he causes her.
Thorn would take dying again over bearing such knowledge.
Prayer asks her questions and he does not interrupt, simply standing while the curse’s gash weeps faster so near another’s pain. Thorn wants to drag her to beneath his neck and tell her it will be okay. To know what a touch like that feels like one more time—oh! just once—before banishing himself to the bottom of some shadowed lake. He wishes to convince her entirely that this hole in his chest is meant to be there, that he is the boy from the river—
Oh, to know his differences cause her suffering.
“You can’t,” Thorn finally coughs out. “You can’t.” This time more defeated.
“Magic won’t fix it.”
thorn
under your skin, over the moon
don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do
roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh