RESTLESS / RECKLESS / LOST

tragic aesthetic. / accepting. / @fevergrow

        he curls his hands against his chest like he’s afraid to touch her with them. 

        her hands aren’t clean either ( none of theirs are, not anymore — falco’s made it impossible for any of them to stay innocent ) but she doesn’t think he sees it the same way. those same forever bloodstained fingers card through his hair, her touch gentle and kind and soft and everything she knows he doesn’t think he deserves. silla’s heart aches for the boy resting in her lap, his expression tight in a pain she knows runs deeper than the scars that rest atop his skin. 

        there is so much she still doesn’t know about him. it feels like every part she learns has to be chipped off of him, painfully carved out of the walls surrounding his heart, and while she tries to fill the gap with as much of herself as she can manage, he still bleeds. the best she can do is try to bandage up the wound. she ghosts her fingers across the curve of his cheek, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone. on a normal day, that would steal a smile from his lips, maybe even bring a sweet warm flush to his cheek under the pads of her fingers. but the vacant expression on his face only barely shifts, and she feels the gaping chasm in her own chest grow wider. she can’t fix him — she knows she can’t, and she wouldn’t want to — but she wishes there was an easier way to ease his pain. 

        at least he’s letting her touch him. she supposes that’s a win on it’s own, when she remembers how he’d flinched away from her when he’d first choked the words out, eyes wild and body tense like a spooked animal. though it’s hard for her to consider the trembling boy in her lap an improvement from that. 

-

          she treats him like he’s beautiful.                 like  he’s  some  kind  of  pure   unsoiled  thing  when  he  is  quite  the  opposite,   all  battle  scars  and  bloodied  knuckles.    ella  is  the  beautiful  one  here.      and  he  means  that  beyond  saying  she’s  sexy,    which  she  definitely  is.      but  he  notices  the  sparkle  of  her  eyes   JUST  AS  MUCH    as  he  does  the  curve  of  her  hip,   the  bump  of  her  breast.      there  are  so  many  lovely  parts  of  her  that  he  won’t  acknowledge  aside  from  stray  kisses  and  roaming  hands .   (  using  his  voice  would  mean  accepting  something  new;    to put it out into the world is to give it legs,  let it walk all over him.   )    but  she  touches  his  bruises  like  they’re  purple  splotches  of  paint  on  a  canvas,   like  they’re  just  another  thing  that  makes  him   ART.    kace  can’t  say  he  agrees  with  her  choices,   but  he’s  found  there’s  no  sense  in  trying  to  talk  her  out  of  something  once  she’s  set   her  mind  on  it.    he  does  like  seeing  her  angry,   though,    especially  on  his  behalf.         it  makes  her  even  hotter.       it  means  she  cares  about  him;     it  means  she’s  the  only  one  that  does.

                he  uses  his  other  arm  to  brush  her  away  from  the  bruise,    intertwining  their  fingers  as  a  bark  of  a  laugh  escapes  him.      the  next  words  are  said  as  if  they’re  the  most  obvious  in  the  world,   but  that’s  because  she  can’t  exactly   DISAGREE   with  them.      “  cause  i’m  a  dick,   ella.     we’re  both  dicks  on  our  own,   so  we’re  extra  dickish  to  each  other.  ”       he  still  remembers  her  in  that  little  waitress  uniform  blowing  smoke  out  of  her  ears  at  the  sight  of  him  in  her  section.     he  would  flick  straw  wrappers  on  the  floor,   mispronounce  menu  options,   be  an  all  around  nightmare  for  anyone  in  customer  service.      no  one,  he’s  sure,   had  hated  him  more  than   HER   upon  their  first  meeting.    “ come  on,  babe.     i’m  sure  you’ve  wanted  to  break  my  nose  a  few  times.    look  in  your  heart  and  you’ll  see  that’s  exactly  what  ricky  wants  too.    and  i’ll  hit  him  right  back  for  fucking  with  max.  ”

          something ugly churns in her stomach whenever she hears him talking about himself like this, but she’s almost thankful for a new emotion to grip to — something tangible, something that makes sense, instead of the daze of almost she finds herself in as she trace her fingers over his skin. it’s moments like this, when they’re not moving, not bantering, barely even breathing as they lay intertwined together when she becomes far too aware of just how quickly her traitorous heart can beat. she could let her fingers float across his skin for hours, she thinks. her frustration flares and falls as he moves her hand away only to twine their fingers together, and for once, she allows herself to feel the gentle warmth that blooms in her chest whenever they get a little too close together ( only to push away her irritation a little quicker, though, that’s all ). her stomach drops at the comparison to falco of all people, and she starts, shifting away ever slightly as a bead of unease forms in her gut. 

archie and sabrina. / accepting. / @fevergrow​​

        she’s beautiful. she’s beautiful, and he doesn’t deserve her.

        ❛ oh, ❜ he says, dumbly, because no one’s ever said that to him before and that was all his stupid brain could think of as a response. he follows it with an equally stupid nod, slow but not hesitant, and she catches his mouth on his way up. demi’s fingers are intertwined with his, and even though they have been for the last hour or so, he’s suddenly very, very aware of it, and half consciously, he tightens his grip. he’s not sure when his other hand landed on her waist but he wraps it tighter around her to rest against the small of her back, pulling her closer as she winds one slender arm around his shoulders. her other hand stays put on his cheek, her touch so feather-soft and full of tenderness that he can’t believe that it’s touching him, of all people. he’s not sure how long they stand there like that, but it feels like hours.

        she’s beautiful, and he’s never deserved her.

        he’ll realize later, when she’s gone and he’s alone with himself like always except this time he’s inside in a room on a bed and he feels like an actual person for the first time in weeks ( months? ), that this was his first kiss. it’s something so impossibly gentle and so like something out of one of those romantic movies she loves watching so much — something he learned during that dreamlike week from so long ago — that he almost convinces himself he’d made it all up. 

        almost, because even hours later he can still feel the echo of her lips against his as he lays in his hotel bed ( his hotel bed that she paid for, even though she didn’t have to and he told her so multiple times ). the ghost of her mouth against his, warm and sweet and wanting him, the tickle of her soft hair against his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine that makes him pull her even impossibly closer, their fingers still clasped tight together, like she never intends to let go again — her, her, her.

        she’s beautiful, and he’s never going to deserve her. 

shit my coworkers have said. / accepting. / @fevergrow

          she blinks slowly, once, twice, three times. amusement curls at her lips, a stifled laugh threatening to burst out as she stares at kace from her spot on his lap.

-

          neither of them are stupid.                 they  can’t  beat  their  own  selves  in  a  foot  race,  fumbling  over  their  own  cognitive  dissonance  towards  the  finish  line  as  they   swear  to  god   that  the  root  of  all  this  affection  is   SOLELY   attraction.   he  can  puff,  puff,  pass  away  as  much  as  he  wants   -   but  it  won’t  change  the  fact  that  he’s  addicted  to  her  in  the  first  place.    ella  is   SPECIAL,  and  as  someone  who’s  never  had  anything  of  value  to  lose,   the  thought  of  indulging  too  deep  in  her  scares  him.    (  that doesn’t stop him though;   he’s infamous for breaking his toys.   )    he  knows  she  feels  the  same  way   -   her  thighs  bordering  his  sides,  her  hands  on  his  chest,  she  has  to.   kace  has  never  been  in  a  real  relationship,  but  he  knows  this  isn’t  akin  to  the   fleeting  ones   he’s  had.    there’s  nothing  they  can  do  but  swim  down  to  the  floor  of  their  own  delusion,  and  maybe,  just  maybe,  hold  their  breath  and  hope  that  the  other  will  eventually  come  up  for  air.

                 ella’s  concern  makes  him  laugh.   it’s  how  he  usually  reacts  to  concern,  since  most  of  the  time,  it  isn’t  genuine.   when  kace  sees  that  hers  is,  he  clicks  his  tongue  and  lifts  his  arm  to  examine  the  splotch.      “  that’s  a  gift  from  our  ol’  pal  rick.    i  started  it,  just  ‘cause  he  was   picking  on  max,   and  the  dumbass  tried  to  hit  me  with  his  phone.  ”       something  which  had  obviously   WORKED,   since  he’s  currently  having  a  staring  contest  with  the  third,  black  eye  on  his  arm.   still,  it’s  as  if  this  is  all  a  joke  to  him.   he  returns  his  arm  to  it’s  place,  resting  behind  his  ear,  and  gives  ella  a  sly  grin.    “  he  broke  the  screen  on  the  ground.    and  i  would’ve  broken  his  fingers  if  he  hadn’t  run  off  all  mad.    fuckin’  moron.  ”

          it gets harder to pretend she doesn’t really care by the second. the facade is pointless anyway, really. the only person they’re even remotely fooling is themselves, and look where that got them — burning skin pressed against her hands and a comfortable fog clouding anything that isn’t him. but the veneer is almost as intoxicating as he is, with its whispers that if she stays behind it, if she keeps him at arms distance all while pulling their bodies close, then she’s safe. kace’s walls may be built higher and stronger, visible even to the untrained eye, but ella’s are hidden, and that may make them all the more dangerous. each hot kiss, every tight embrace and every press of their bodies against each other is a clash of their walls, each hit chipping away a piece until eventually, there’ll be nothing left. even now, painfully aware of how much fuller her chest feels when he’s near, she’s not sure if she’s ready for her barricade to fall.