so reckless you might start feeling; beth

[adna]

one touch will make you so nervous you might stop breathing
one touch will make you so reckless you might start feeling
one touch will finally show to me what you can't hide

Maybe they are destined to always have this kind of miscommunication.

Maybe they are always destined to never quite understand one another.

Or maybe her heart is such a selfish, greedy thing that it rips apart whatever is placed in its hands. Maybe she is so terrified of him breaking her apart that she is breaking herself apart first. Maybe she thinks that it will hurt less if she is the one to detonate the bomb. At least she will know when to expect the blast.

All she knows is that she feels all of the dangerous hope sputtering in her chest, crackling and then dying and she is left with the cold aftermath. They move silently together and she wishes for the moments when he had been asking her questions—even when they hurt. When they had been opening up to one another or, at least, she had been opening up to him and he can’t been turning his cheek to her during it.

She wishes for that closeness, that intimacy.

Even if it now is cast in a platonic light.

She feels that soft whine in her chest where her heart threatens to give out, but despite her suggestion, she doesn’t actually make a move to separate herself from him. She just continues to walk next to him, her scaled head swinging to look around them, Loess beginning to bleed into the forest, the dark thickening.

Then, she stops.

It is sudden and her head whips up, serpentine eyes flashing to thermal.

The world maps in entirely new hues and her nostrils flare.

“This way,” is all she says, her voice tight when she sees two shapes in the distance—one that calls to every maternal bone in her body. Then without another word, she charges, crashing through the dark.

ADNA