SOLILOQUY / SILENCE

    the words cut through her like a sharp knife, lacerating her heart and leaving it bleeding and dissolving within the acidic pit of her stomach. she sits there, confused and unresponsive. they sit there for what feels like ages as a couple without conversation. the cafe’s ambiance is louder than ever with whispers and endless chatter flooding her empty mind in an attempt to make it think. for a drawn-out moment she forgets how to function and she just sits there, avoiding eye contact and looking at their coffee and his reflection within the dark pool.

    they could face each other without a knife disguised as a hair clip or a gun hidden within the lining of a well tailored jacket and still cause lethal injury with well constructed words. what did she do wrong? what did she say that made him cold and apathetic again? or perhaps the answer is a lot simpler than she’s making it out to be. maybe… she’s the problem.

    her entire world fractured in a mere second. she wishes she’d felt a knife twisting itself into her skin instead of having to pretend that what just happened is something she should just accept which, she does. she stands a little too quickly, knocking her cup of coffee off the table as it explodes into pieces beneath her feet. she doesn’t hear her voice but she’s aware that she’s said that she’s sorry as all eyes fall on her and the cafe is silent. her throat hurts, and she has trouble speaking but she’s on flight mode now. she needs to get out of here. she just… she’s the problem. she’s just clinging onto an idea of a ghost that has long passed. he’s gone now and she’s just giving him another problem to deal with.

    ❛ I — gotta go. ❜ she takes a step forward and she breaks into a sprint instead, one hand clutching the strap of her purse and the other pushing the door to the cafe she comes stumbling out of. then she’s running, faster than she’s ever run before in heels as she fishes out her keys from her coat pockets and unlocks her vehicle.

    she’s in the wrangler, red painted finger nails gripping the steering wheel. she can’t accept what they’ve become in a matter of seconds but… as the tears finally fall she accepts that they’re back to square one. she pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road. she won’t be coming home —- did she even have a home to go back to anymore? she’s alone now. so she just drives. and the road ahead is the only thing that is endless before her so, she’ll just have to keep on driving into the night.

✰ c .✧ @brainshared !

        HONESTY AND VERBAL ATTACKS MAY OCCASIONALLY WEAR THE SAME FACE.  He had no MALEVOLENCE behind the words he spilled, it was nothing more then a reminder spoken. A reminder, both to her and in extent to HIMSELF. In reality, the latter held more weight then the former. To look at it in the right way, it was SELF-DEFENSE. Amelioration to the reality that had been crafted, where her words had provided a crack to that. And often times, reality wasn’t WARM, KIND, or FAIR. You can’t beat the wolf out of the dog, and the same mouth that gives you affection can as quickly tear you to shreds.  HE WAS THE BREATHING REMINDER OF THIS.

        And like the animal of comparison, the English man didn’t AVERT his gaze for long in a state where an aspect of him felt ALMOST VULNERABLE. He looked at her, the CHILL on his features being replaced by the stone of unreadable mental state. Mavin noted her AVERSION after what he had said, a whisper in his mind letting him know ‘you could have said that better, idiot’, though, CURRENTLY NOTHING MORE THAN A MURMUR. It was no more helpful then the buzzing voices swimming throughout the cafe, minding their own business.

 OR THEY HAD BEEN MINDING IT, but energy to change only needs a catalyst. A fast movement, the sound of CERAMIC and LIQUID hitting the ground. Agents like them, past or present, were taught NOT to be surprised, caught off guard, to treat everything as EXPECTED. But the twitch of his index finger brushing the table and the slight ADJUSTMENT in his face betrayed that. And the partnered training of being able to react within a split second failed him as well as she makes the move to leave. 

         ❝ -—- Wait.❞            It might have only been a few SECONDS, but the words felt like they took hours to leave his mouth, the ears they were supposed to reach already gone and only falling upon the patrons that had started up a new batch of MURMURING and MUTTERING after the scene.          ❝ -—- Bollocks..❞             Quieter words, something trying to be snuffed under the breath but not quite as he left out the door greeted by the EMPTY NIGHT and the sounds of an engine tearing away in the distance. And there he stood, ALONE WITH HIMSELF YET AGAIN. Hand clutched for his phone, his first set of business coming in the form of a quick set of messages, before he called for a cab. He had to get back to his own car BEFORE he could try anything too rash yet.

>>> PRIVATE FILES : Sentence Memes

      THAT WAS QUICK. Regardless, Mavin’s hand softly relaxed back to his side- it was less out of OBEDIENCE, of course, as it was just reactionary. Something almost OUT OF COURTESY, but that only truly lived in small, almost fake bits. At least, now a days it did. Despite his APPEARANCE, there wasn’t much to give as far as expression. REALLY, HE DIDN’T SEE THE NEED TO FORCE ONE. With that type of defensive behaviour, why would he? Either something was known, or it didn’t matter either way. 

>>> PRIVATE FILES : Sentence Memes

       FOR EVERYTHING, THERE MAY OCCUR ROAD BLOCKS EVERY NOW AND AGAIN. But for how everything had been going lately, he couldn’t let that deter him. There was too much gained to lose it all now- or, to even lose face. He regarded the other male with a COLLECTED expression, tame and BY APPEARANCE, WEAPONLESS. But that meant nothing, now did it? It didn’t matter if you look at him as he was NOW or as he HAD BEEN, the lack of weapons spoke worse then actually seeing them. Because, if you saw them, you could AT LEAST gather what you were dealing with.  ❛ THIS? THIS WAS JUST TRICKS AND DECEIT.

     ‘I THOUGHT I LOST YOU’.  He rolled that around in his head, The degree of care that laced BEHIND IT, despite everything. DESPITE HIM BEING THE HAND THAT CAUSED THE LOSS OF EVERYTHING ELSE. And yet, perhaps nothing more than a small quip, he was greeted with that. 

     Where one may expect a warmth to grace features, the REALIZATION of care existing providing heat for the mind and heart, instead what passed the ex-agents face was something much colder. The icy realization that despite any little GLANCE of who might have been a better man at one point, was dead and gone. Any similarity passed was nothing more than a SHADOW, a passing ghost of what once was. Any lightness that was there evaporated as quickly as it had come. 

  JUST ANOTHER REMINDER THIS WAS MAVIN, and not Gavin the Third. Not one of the duo sitting in the seats for England, not the same friend (or, perhaps, beyond that) to his once Canadian comrade.