julian.
Ā Ā Ā he supposes he should be over it by now. though heās not sure what the expiration date to moping is and if there was one heād broken it too many times to now begin to care. but the truth is ⦠despite popular belief, he cares too much ; about everything, about all the small annoyances he claim to pick on for the amusement, all the digs and all the harsh words, his fatherās absence and his motherās misery, and her. most of all he cares about her. see, thatās why heād never been good at vocalizing feelings. because once they were out there, once walls had been broken down and demolished, the person on the end could still let you down. they could take those emotions and squash them with one single word. or in this case, two. he doesnāt expect to see her ever again, and some part of him doesnāt want to, either. he doesnāt know what to say, he doesnāt know what to do ⦠all he knows is that this is not what he wants. or how he wants it. teeth graze against his lower lip, a sharp whistle tone made for a pup to come hopping his way. leashing the shiba, he barely gives her a glance, and certainly not a word ā nothing more than sheād given him ā and he passes her by. thereās a growingĀ pressure against this chest and thereās a pounding of his heart, but he doesnāt stop. he doesnāt stop and he doesnāt speak and frankly, he doesnāt feel. because if he did ⦠all itād be would be anger. and pain. and if a sliver of emotion is to be let through a patched up wall, it would surely cause a crack expand and for all those feelings stored away to come BURSTING through the crevices. fuck that.Ā
a rowdy string of insults would hurt less than this. micah wasnāt expecting much, but julian disregarding her existence altogether hadnāt been an option sheād considered in her carefully crafted, long forgotten game plans. the shiba inu promptly obeys, and the gust of wind that follows after him is strong enough to knock her overā the sting of cold hurts as it numbs her, but itās not something micah has time for and hastily runs after julian. Ā ā Ā hey, iām SORRY! iā Ā ā she rushes to say, taking long strides to catch up with him; even longer to keep up. Ā ā Ā ām sorry i left, ākay? Ā i shouldāve told youā shouldnāt have gone all radio silent on you; a call⦠ANYTHING. Ā ā Ā her voice is hushed and pleading; small, even if sheās being loud and clear. Ā ā Ā the shitty ass textā iām sorry. i knew youād try ānd stop me. i couldnātā Ā āĀ words fail her, thoughts and apologies flashing far too fast for her to pick one and fully lay it out. micah reaches out, fingers clutching onto his arm, pulling him into a stop with a pathetic amount of strength. Ā ā Ā justā stop. say somethingā please. Ā ā
















