[private] washing machine heart

[elio]

elio

gone was the way we were, just like the days we'd burn

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever thought?” Elio calls up to the birds peering irritably down at him. His gray eyes smile with some bitter and wry secret; and when the birds do not respond he simply untucks his wings and flaps them until the petulant little creatures are uprooted.

With a blink the crimson appendages are made invisible, and Elio hugs them tight to his sides.

He thinks that the worst thing he has ever thought is that he wishes his father will never come back. And when he thinks about what he previously thought, he realizes he still currently wishes for that blasphemous thought and . . . Elio shakes his head anxiously, a body movement that one might consider his signature, considering how often he must shake such vicious ideas from his head.

“Man . . .” he whispers, then leans a tired forehead against the wrinkled tree trunk. The sun is warm and pleasantly juxtaposed with the cold wind. This peaceful winter day is not lost on Elio—for its reality sits regretfully in the forefront of his mind—but it is only not lost on him because he wishes to enjoy it.

@[alaska] <3