09-11-2021, 12:42 AM
YOU'RE WALKING IN THE SHADOWS OF YOUR FEAR AND YOU'RE HEADED
FOR THE GALLOWS, SIN AROUND YOUR THROAT AND NO ONE'S NEAR
FOR THE GALLOWS, SIN AROUND YOUR THROAT AND NO ONE'S NEAR
He is surprised when she steps forward. When the warmth of her body is suddenly curled against his cool shadows, and he almost feels guilty for how easily he caves into her. Her lips brush against his chest, right where his heart—the only real piece of him that remains at all—beats erratically, and she again incites that war that is always a breath away from raging inside of him. The part of him that knows exactly how to love her, always locked in battle with this new, feral part of him that only wanted to take exactly what it needed to survive.
He almost wonders if it’s worse, to have the ability to recognize all the things he does wrong, but to not have the means to control it. Like watching himself destroy her from the outside looking in, and no way to stop it.
But he can’t help himself, because the moment she touches him, hardly a second passes before he is returning it. Before he is draping his neck over hers and pulling her in tighter, burying his face in her dark hair and closing his eyes against the feeling of his chest trying to split apart. “Nothing else is going to happen,” he whispers fervently into her skin, trailing his lips along her neck. “I can’t lose you, and I know that I’m going to if I don’t stop,” there is an urgency to his voice, low and hushed as it is, and he can feel his heart squeezing again inside of his chest. “I never want anything bad to ever happen to you, but I am the bad.”
It is only when she offers to help that he goes still and quiet, and though she can’t see it, there is a quiet kind of darkness that settles on his face. He can’t stand the thought of her seeing him like that. Can’t stomach the idea of her watching him prey on anyone that he can find, or the way he toys with their emotions to make them afraid when he is feeling desperate.
And he realizes that there could never be any truth to what he had just told her moments before.
He was always meant to lose her, because no matter how hard they loved each other, he was impossible to change.
Eventually, he steps back, shaking his head slowly. His jaw tightens and clenches, his eyes closed as he tries to work up the nerve to say what he knows needs to be said. “I will never let you go, Despoina,” there is a growl somewhere in his chest, in the back of his throat, because he hates the truth of what he is about to say. “The only way you will ever be happy is if you leave, but I will never be the one to release you.” Finally he turns his red eyes back to her face, bright and burning, matching the fire-like pain in his chest. “There is no fixing this—fixing me. But without me in your life I promise, you will learn to be just fine.”
He almost wonders if it’s worse, to have the ability to recognize all the things he does wrong, but to not have the means to control it. Like watching himself destroy her from the outside looking in, and no way to stop it.
But he can’t help himself, because the moment she touches him, hardly a second passes before he is returning it. Before he is draping his neck over hers and pulling her in tighter, burying his face in her dark hair and closing his eyes against the feeling of his chest trying to split apart. “Nothing else is going to happen,” he whispers fervently into her skin, trailing his lips along her neck. “I can’t lose you, and I know that I’m going to if I don’t stop,” there is an urgency to his voice, low and hushed as it is, and he can feel his heart squeezing again inside of his chest. “I never want anything bad to ever happen to you, but I am the bad.”
It is only when she offers to help that he goes still and quiet, and though she can’t see it, there is a quiet kind of darkness that settles on his face. He can’t stand the thought of her seeing him like that. Can’t stomach the idea of her watching him prey on anyone that he can find, or the way he toys with their emotions to make them afraid when he is feeling desperate.
And he realizes that there could never be any truth to what he had just told her moments before.
He was always meant to lose her, because no matter how hard they loved each other, he was impossible to change.
Eventually, he steps back, shaking his head slowly. His jaw tightens and clenches, his eyes closed as he tries to work up the nerve to say what he knows needs to be said. “I will never let you go, Despoina,” there is a growl somewhere in his chest, in the back of his throat, because he hates the truth of what he is about to say. “The only way you will ever be happy is if you leave, but I will never be the one to release you.” Finally he turns his red eyes back to her face, bright and burning, matching the fire-like pain in his chest. “There is no fixing this—fixing me. But without me in your life I promise, you will learn to be just fine.”
T O R R Y N