* WORLD END / CLUB.

        there’s   a   hum   as   she   recounts   the   reasons        ,        a   flicker   of   perception   within   swimming   in   odd   eyes        .        he   tugs   at   a   strand   of   his   own   hair        ,        playful   smile   on   a   pale   countenance        .        he   knows   the   familiarity   of   an   impulse   haircut        ,        of   trying   to   feel   new   in   the   middle   of   the   night        .        ❛        i   get   it        ,        ❜        he   says        .        ❛        you   look   well        ,        too        .        ❜        his   features   soften        ,        smile        turning        fond        .        ❛       have   you   been   eating   often        ?        ❜

        ❛        even   if   your   hair   was   shorter   than   this        ,        you’d   still   look   perfectly   fine        .        you   can   wear   your   hair   any   way   you   want        .        ❜                gentle   reassurance   sits   delicately   on   his   words        .        he’d   been   surprised   to   see   the   new   look        ,        used   to   the   long   locks   he’d   met   her   with        ,        but   the   shorter   cut   suited   her        .        he   reaches   out   a   hand        ,        pats   the   top   of   her   head   with   a   smile   made   of   warmth        .                ❛        it   looks   really   nice   on   you        ,        i   like   it   a   lot        .        what   made   you   decide   to   cut   it        ?        ❜

he cares her too

                    surprise    comes    in    the    form    of    stiffened    shoulders        ,        eyes    inching    wider    in    a    curious    display    as    small    hands    take    hold    of    his    wrist        (        𝐬𝐞𝐭    𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞    𝐭𝐡𝐞    𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦        ,        boy        ,        she’s    only    ever    been    safety        )        .        it’s    hard    not    to    smile        ,        affection    blooming    within    ice        -        wrought    chest    as    he    lifts    his    wrist        /        admires    the    bracelet    with    a    laugh    like    fallen    snow        .        ❛    thanks    ,    ❜        he    says        .        there’s    a    touch    of    mindfulness    when    he    moves    now        ,        care    slipping    into    his    bones    like    it    was    coming    home        .        ❛    did    you    make    it    yourself        ?        ❜

i’ve gotta do this .. for so many other icons .

profit ?

aaaa thank u :(((( !!!!

❛   oh   ,   it’s   awful   here   .   ❜   voice   takes   on   a   mocking   lilt   ,   every   inch   of   his   being   falling   into   calamitous   shape   .   a   hand   gestures   absently   .   ❛   there’s   been   a   string   of   awful   ,   messy   murders   ,   but   if   you   want   to   go   ahead   then                         ❜   he   tilts   his   head   in   a   vague   direction   .   ❛   the   road’s   all   yours   .   don’t   let   my   warnings   stop   you   .   ❜

❛   ah   ,   right   .   ❜   he   doubts   the   convenience   store   would   accept   pets   ,   even   if   it   was   a   harmless   stray   in   her   arms   .   he   keeps   his   pace   steady   ,   trying   to   accommodate   by   keeping   his   steps   small   and   slow   .   every   now   and   then   ,   he’ll   steal   glances   to   the   sky   ,   the   unrelenting   nervousness   biting   at   his   heart   proving   itself   to   be   difficult   to   tamp   down   .   ❛   do   you   want   anything   specific   ?   you   can   pick   whatever   you   want   ,   don’t   worry   about   it   .   ❜

he   listens   to   her   play   ,   an   ear   tuned   with   intent   ,   and   a   small   smile   tugs   at   his   lips   when   she   stumbles   ,   presses   the   wrong   key   .   his   hands   are   gentle   as   they   rise   and   fall   onto   ivory   keys   ,   a   single   finger   nudging   the   right   key   with   a   soft   touch   .   ❛   almost   ,   ❜   he   murmurs   ,   voice   a   touch   too   low   that   it   would’ve   been   difficult   to   hear   if   they   weren’t   as   close   as   they   are   now   .   ❛   it’s   the   one   next   to   it   .   this   one   .   ❜   he   presses   it   ,   lets   it   ring   out   in   their   shared   silence   before   his   hands   fall   to   his   lap   again   .   it’s   easy   as   he   meets   her   gaze   ,   features   bright   in   subdued   radiance   .   ❛   that’s   one   of   my   favorite   songs   ,   ❜   he   says   .   a   hand   touches   the   keys   again   ,   feather-light   as   he   looks   to   the   piano   .   ❛   you   played   it   really   well   .   i   wouldn’t   have   guessed   you   didn’t   play   much   .   ❜