SHE WHO SWALLOWS DIAMONDS.

it’s an awful thing, seeing her so miserable. he’d take it from her , if he could — reach into her heart and strip away the melancholy, scrape such misery from her soul. even he hadn’t been so sad at her age. 

gabriel stiffens, slightly, as he reaches for the mugs in the upper cabinet, pausing before he places them on the bench. there’s a soft exhale, his head dipping, to place tea bags in either mug. he takes a long time to turn around, too long to answer a question she’d probably meant half - jokingly. 

there’s a sad smile, but not without warmth. 

She doesn’t like that smile. Doesn’t like THOSE SMILES that make him look like he’s been thinking of those sad, those dark things that infect his memory. PRISCILLA DOESN’T WANT TO THINK OF GABRIEL HAVING A LIFE BEFORE HER. She didn’t want to believe that ALL OF HIS MISERY came from somewhere.

That was selfish, in and of itself.

She hears those words without really hearing them, in the process of opening the box of bagels to show her elder. Brow furrows, and the notion hits her  —-  he had never mentioned anything about children. But she had never asked.

Her stomach coils.

❛   i’m doing just fine. and yourself ?   ❜

there’s a warm smile before he turns to the stove, busying himself with the kettle. just fine. gabriel is around as good as he’s capable of getting , which is still relatively bleak. mild mannered and polite, though so obviously disconsolate. 

he wonders, faintly, why they ask each other how they’re doing when they already know.

On her best behavior, probably.

❛ Okay, I guess. I went off for a bit because, you know. Shit happened. But I feel kind of okay, now. ❜      A pause. She bites into her bottom lip, setting the box of bagels on the tabletop. 

having prolonged company is an interesting thing . there is little stagnant presence in his life — the odd customer who stumbles in mistaking his store for a decent, respecful bookshop , a man he passes on the street, the clerk at the grocery store. it’s better that way, though when the time comes, it’ll be a hapless burglar who happens upon his rotting corpse, festering away, it’s jumper stained with month - old sick. 

he comes when she calls,  reaching for the door’s handle and stepping aside so that she might move past him. the house’s warmth spills out into the cold air, and gabriel’s quick to close the door once she’s through. 

Her skin crawls at the idea. Priscilla’s attention is turned to Gabriel, a half - smile working over her mouth. Before she can say another word, she’s guided inside  —-  leans in to press a kiss to Gabriel’s cheek, for the affection and human contact that they both probably needed.

It feels good, she thinks.

❛   gone …   ❜

that could mean a lot of things.  he thinks of the worst, assumes it must be. the door is closed behind her , keeping the cold out. 

he remembers his wife , feels a pang in his chest, swallows down the emotion that surges. gabriel knows this kind of pain.  knows the way it hangs heavy over a person’s head , stirs in their gut, has them on their hands and knees, retching into a toilet bowl for hours on end .

and still, he isn’t quite sure what to say .

She wanted to BURST WITH THE RAGE THAT SHE FELT. The anger that someone like Micah and Donna and that entire batshit crazy troupe had managed to steal away a boy who was HERS, FULLY AND COMPLETELY.

❛      He cheated on his psycho crazy bitch girlfriend. And now he’s ——- gone. That’s fucked, right?      ❜     Long digits rub beneath her shadowed eyes, a shuddering breath being pulled into her hunched frame. 

his good spells don’t last . never do . but he’ll take them as they come . some ironic twist , her showing up looking like hell when he seems to be getting at least six or so hours a night . heads and tails , they are , only one allowed to be looking up at any one time . it works out . someone’s got to take care of the other . 

gabriel watches with a faint frown , eyes softening at the sight . 

❛    I DON’T WANT TEA.    ❜     I want alo, she wanted to wail. She doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anything more in this world or the next, she doesn’t think she’s ever missed him so much. 

Priscilla felt alone in her grief. No one could grieve like she did. No one could ache like she ached. But she tosses back her alcohol, snorts her cocaine  —-  and rips the world apart for him.

She bows her head before entering, anyway, not too petulant to turn Gabriel away now.

❛      i’d rather not . it’s unladylike to turn down a drink .       ❜    a basic rule of thumb when it came to accepting alcohol . or drugs . or clothes / excessive material goods . narrow shoulders give a leonine roll , and she’s eyeing rust’s cigarette , wondering if it would be too forward to ask him for a few until she came into her next surge of wealth (  it’ll happen . usually does , anyway  ) . 

❛      um . definitely not bud light .      ❜     but it was nice for him to get it for her anyway . she doesn’t get much interaction these days , but she guesses that’s her own fault for choosing to be fucking manic in cities where she has no real friends . or whatever those were . she offers him a half smile , wrapping her fingers around the neck of the bottle before she’s swinging back a few gulps . better . she wipes her mouth on the back of her wrist .