[mature] this life, it feels like a prison || tantalize

[Offspring]

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

 Her voice is soft, yet rough around the edges - I will not have your pity, she mumbles, but he does not pity her at all. His quiet contemplation permeates the heavy silence that ensues. She is uncomfortable, and uneasy in her own skin, and he cannot even begin to imagine the immense suffering she has endured – he tried not to think of his mother, of her anguish and despair, weeping pitifully with dried blood staining her ivory skin. He had never known such distress, and he could never understand the depth in which it has hurt her, stirring grief and apprehension within her restless self. He could only be a pillar of strength; a quiet presence to offer solace and consolation.

  No, you didn’t. I enjoy your company.

  ”And I, yours.”

  When her breath once more intermingles with his own, he brushes the dark shadow of his lips across her cheek again, but more deliberately than before. The broad plane of his forehead is pressed beneath her jawline, before his gentle caress is tucked against her neck and trailed up into the entanglement of her dark, wavy tresses, draping his neck over her own to draw her closer to him. The urgent heat of his touch has dwindled into a tender warmth, seeking to chase away the shadow tucked away beneath her tired eyes. His heart is pounding still, steady and strong, as the moonlight illuminates their entangled bodies in its pale glow.

  Her explanation only touches the surface of her experience, but he does not need her to explicitly tell him what had torn her spirit apart so maliciously. He can fill in the spaces where a void is left, and there is a spark of anger festering inside of him – a shred of rage, encapsulated in the growing ember fluttering within his chest. He had never sought to take another against their will – he could not imagine the mentality, even out of spite, out of anger. He was heavily flawed – he had made many a mistake, he had caused strife, he had been unfaithful and unkind – but he had never taken what was not his.

  The thought of it is enough to roil his anger.

  But it is not his pain. It is not his burden, though he yearns to bear it for her.

  When her gaze is finally settled upon him after he has withdrawn from giving her what little comfort he can, the tempestuous fury of her heartache and painful memories has faded, and in its place, a softly spoken confession is made. I like you, Offspring, her whispered words say to him – so innocent, in a way – so rich with promise, potential and possibility, and far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

  ”I am glad that you’ve told me,” he murmurs softly, earnestly, while the darkness of his stare searches hers. ”and I am sorry for all that you’ve been through. I like you, too, Liz,” he admits, his words quietly mumbled against the corner of her mouth, lingering there just so.

OFFSPRING

another zealot with the weight of the fucking world