01-14-2019, 05:16 PM
i could dig myself out of the loneliest of graves for you, could be taken down like a dog that got itself a mouthful of blood and liked the taste, could give myself up belly-up. crane toward you like a heliotrope in the sun.
Despair watches as she approaches but he’s too tired now to run away any longer. So he remains, a tired sort of smile forcing itself to his lips because he knows first impressions are so important. He learned that the hard way with Dovev. (His father didn’t love him because he didn’t smile right, because he was too aggressive with his hunger for approval. Always his fault.) But she seems less concerned by the shape of his mouth and more fixated on his eyes for whatever reason. Maybe she hates serpents and their angry slit pupils, he thinks, so he forces them brown again with a simple blink. And then she asks if he's okay.
But how to answer? How to explain his eternally crumbling world? Perhaps another day.
So he traps the secrets in a box and sits on it while the raging desire for kindness yowls inside. “I could be worse,” he says, but his voice breaks and he coughs, sending little flecks of blood onto the ground again. Still, he smiles and shrugs his shoulders like all is right in the world regardless. The expression fades a bit when he feels the razor’s edge of the agony in his head begin to subside a little, to a quiet throbbing that he can tolerate more easily. He tilts his dark head curiously as he watches her.
Something about the pain in her eyes reminds him of Shiya, of Adna and he wonders if all women will stare at him that way. Was he really so hard to look at? His lips form a frown and he takes a step back, not realizing his symptoms have eased thanks to her. Instead he assumes that he has intruded this time, until she speaks again. She’s so kind to tolerate him a little longer, he thinks.
“My name is Despair. I don’t really live.. anywhere.. But my mother hasn’t come back for me in a while.” He pauses and wonders if he should really share anything about his mother, knowing they are each hunted by the unknown monster. But he wants to trust her, wants to cling to any semblance of warmth that comes his way like it’ll keep him from drowning in his own darkness. “I wanted to keep waiting but I’m afraid to be alone.”
He laughs again, embarrassed by his own admission, and this time his cough is dry. His throat doesn’t feel like it’s ripping itself to pieces after and he’s so grateful for it. The boy swallows hard and finally lifts his chin to meet her eyes again.
“Do you have other children?” he asks, gesturing weakly at her belly. As soon as the words leave his lips, he wonders if he’s asked an uncomfortable question, the way he goes nervous when people ask about Shiya. His eyes resume staring at her legs shamefully.
here is the field in my heart that bears your name. here is the whole country, aching and tender,
i named after you. here is my whole entire heart.
i named after you. here is my whole entire heart.