𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲.

honey’s face glows with melancholy while the tension grows solid between them, something tangible. the shift in his intonation, evident weariness, outright admittance that somethings wrong here. it’s enough to give her whiplash from the daunting ( and somehow exponentially preferable ) silence they’d been slumped in mere moments ago. she’s taken to blame herself less, or at least would rather internalize the mountains of self loathing than to dribble them in puddles at charles’ feet. even if she’s ridiculing herself for things out of her control. she can’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to so much as shed a tear in front of him and maybe that in itself is a form of neglect to their relationship. it wouldn’t be so far fetched if she’d sabotaged it all –– set herself to fail in this for some sort of self fulfilling prophecy that she’s not enough. she offers up nothing but a tired sigh for the few seconds that follow, adjusting in her seat in awkward discomfort. thinking it might be nice if he could be just a nudge closer because even them not being skin to skin is wildly uncharacteristic.

“ are you waiting for me to throw in the towel? ” a plain-spoken quip enters the uncomfortable fog they sit between before she can bite it back. it’s said in a tone dipped in playful tease. there’s the ghost of a giggle that dots her i’s and crosses her t’s, offers up some ease to its blunt roughness because it wouldn’t be her if anything but soft. it’s a challenge, an honest wondering that nearly triggers the nausea in the pool of her belly to shoot up her neck and spill out in chunks all over the dining table. there’s a glint that decorates irises now, a tilt of her head that invites a fresher breath of air into her lungs. “ i’d do it if it made it easier. ” there isn’t an inch of her that’s prepared to give up, but it less and less matters what she wants. she’s coming to resolve that there might be too little time to put him second anymore, whether or not it leaves her feeling empty and unwanted.

the smile that taunts along his lips is nothing short of melancholic,  almost accepting of the chasm that had split through their once solid foundation. his first reaction’s to roll his eyes, tip his head back by the neck to act out the sigh that hollows out his lungs  ——  but his body keeps still,  bones and muscles alike still clinging onto the hope that this won’t completely fade away.  neglecting impulse hadn’t ever been his strongest suit,  and maybe the only positive of this torrential downpour of unspoken disdain has made it so charles has no choice but to think before his actions.   “ if i somehow implied i wanted that,  i didn’t mean to. ”  losing her was the last thing he wanted,  even before the shambles.  before the millisecond of hesitance to tuck himself beneath the same comforter,  before the ominous countdown of an inevitable end had set onto his shoulders like dumbbells.  there had been a point where he couldn’t be in the same room as her without crowding her space,  hands all but glued onto any part of her that fingers could hold on to for the simple pleasure of warming fingertips against her skin. 

a devout wonder roams his face, hazel hues intently imploring for more. pupils are blown wide and there’s a hazy longing settled into her features. she can feel him and how he’s held back, suddenly wonders if the elbow that props up on the table and cheek that squishes against her palm is wildly inappropriate for the rigidness of the room. its always proven difficult for honey to corral herself around him, even like this –– with the desperate feeling that she isn’t privy to whatever it is that makes the room feel so still. she finds it a challenge knowing what to say, thinks it easier to hum a soft agreement into the space between them and lower her eyes down to the plate sat before her. a nightmare, she recites to herself, wondering if he were to say the same about this dreamlike limbo they sit in now. 

brows twitch at the blunt acknowledgement of their state and she must remind herself that it’s healthy to speak candidly. honey’s never in good conscience known any other way than honesty and though anticipating the worst she feels it in her only to say what she really feels. the air between them has taken a shift to something more delicate, feeling susceptible to crumble with any wrong word and she must wonder when it began to feel this way. if it started for him long before it did for her. “ i feel far from you. ” wet lips exhale with a tender sweetness, a withdrawn blush blooming across her cheeks to match a sheepish expression that she hopes he can’t delineate through the candle light. how embarrassing it all feels. her bijou hand loses itself in her hairline to tuck unruly strands away from her line of sight and the precise gaze that finds his face again begs to be let into his thoughts. 

“ feel far from me? ”

the corners of his mouth blur with sentiment whenever she moves. he’ll at least have that, he thinks. despite the self doubt that billows out of his nostrils each exhale, it’s still certain he’ll never tire of looking at her. muscle memory serves to keep him outwardly endeared even when a self preserving voice tells him to keep his expression blank.  “ i don’t want to, ”   is given in lieu of any outright transparency. and maybe that’s the root of it all, the phantom tether that’s somehow formed between his head and his tongue in her company. he tries his best not to think every second has it spreading through the rest of him, ligaments becoming rigid beneath the weight of too much that he hasn’t said. that he can never quite bring himself to say because the timing isn’t right, because of an ugly discontentment that perches on his chest every morning for a reason he still can’t place. 

@pyrlte​

an innocent pensiveness weighs down the corners of vermillion lips as honey fidgets with tousled strands that pirouette down her chest. her hair has gotten long. longer than she likes it. her back is up against her chair and the expression is tired; a peppering of fear shading her eyebrows as round eyes stare across at charles. it’s a rude habit –– she’s embarrassed finding herself doing it yet still can’t ever get enough of just looking at him. a fondness sits behind her pout in lieu of an i love you that doesn’t quite fit the climate of the room. ( feels like it hasn’t for months and honey’s grateful to not yet have made herself sick wondering why. ) she thinks she might prefer talking to the static silence perched between them at the table alongside a golden candelabra. the quietness earns her to feel more nauseous than the nights before. like perhaps she’s done something wrong though she really can’t remember what. 

“ keep having this dream, ” she breathes out evenly, tone carefully soft though desperation is rupturing between syllables of each word. “ it’s d-dark and i don’t know what i’m running from but i hear you calling my name. your voice feels closer and closer but … i never get to you. ” honey watches his face faintly illuminated by the flickering of candles and wonders if it’s all a metaphor –– if the part of her subconscious that feels him indefinitely out of reach finds a way in to their bedroom every night after she closes her eyes. she wonders too if he can feel her body slick with sweat at seven in the morning, wisps of hair clinging to skin and freckled cheeks glistening under the light of sunrise. when she trembles an out of breath good morning and her grip around him refuses to let up she hopes he can’t tell how badly she wants to believe it’s just a dream.

it feels a bit like there’s a stranger in front of him. and that’s mostly his own fault, he knows that. and he can still see fragments of her that ring almost painfully familiar :   a sunlit glazed hue of irises, the strands of hair that frame her temples, shadows emphasizing the divots of collarbones. the sound of her voice cements it for him, simple syllables coaxing memories of his cold palms finding the form of her rib cage in the middle of the night to swallow their warmth and a head on a shoulder with paired laughter rumbling from a video watched for the fourth time in a row and   ——   well, his mind seems to do more talking than his tongue these days. ( in truth, the fear of losing her has paralyzed him in the most inconvenient way. ) 

a  short  starter  for  @pyrlte​     /   meme  in  source  !

           “  if  you  love  someone,  you  tell  them.  ”  emboldened  words  from  a  girl  perpetually  skating  around  her  feelings,  especially  the  fervent  response  that’s  so  often  provoked  by  his  presence   ——-   she’s  folded  against  his  chest,  the  rhythmic  drum  of  his  heartbeat  just  beneath  her  cheek,  the  two  of  them  aglow  with  some  remarkably  cheesy,  remarkably  warm  old  romantic  comedy  playing  out  because  they’d  lost  the  remote,  neither  party  willing  to  move  from  this  moment.  double  entendre  encircles  around  her  unwitting  phrase,  but  pru’s  quick  to  catch  herself  around  charles  and  giggles  through  her  clarification,  “  i  mean  with  these  movies,  you  know  ?  they  prolong  it  all  so  much,  but  wouldn’t  it  just  be  easier  if  one  of  them  could  sit  up  and  say  how  they  really  feel  ?  ”  unspoken  question:  will  pru  and  charles  ever  gather  the  courage  to  do  the  same  ?

❛   well,    i    think    you    are.    i    don’t    think    someone    who    𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕    from    heaven    would    be    as    good    to    me    as    you    are.   ❜    the    femme    admitted.    dee    never    really    had    it    easy    with    relationships    in    the    past.    the    person    she    had    been    with    before    charles    had    been    abusive,    and    it    all    but    𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒅    her    trust    in    others    for    a    while.    but    the    brunette    found    that    she    was    able    to    trust   charles   easily.    she    shook    her    head    at    his    inquiry,    brows    furrowing    the    slightest.    ❛   of    course    not.    i’d    never    do    that    to    you.   there’s    still    just…    part    of    me    that    is    still    getting    used    to    being    in    a    healthy    relationship    after    being    in    a    toxic    one,    y'know   ?    i    trust    you    completely,    but    this    is    still    new    territory    for    me    and    there’s    something    inside    of    me    saying    that    i    just…    𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕    𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆    to    be    this    happy.   ❜    the   b e l l e z z a    confessed.   ❛   that’s   all   i   meant   by   that,   i   promise.   ❜  

@pyrlte​    liked    for    a    song    lyric    starter    /    ‘positions’    by    ariana    grande

❛    heaven    sent    you    to    me.    i    just    hope    i    don’t    repeat    history.    ❜

  “ how  gorgeous  of  you  to  recognize  the  sacrifices  i’ve  made  on  my  part.  ” it’s  so  easily  to  shy  away  beneath  a  veil  of  jests  and  chides,  seemingly  the  last  bit  of  resolve  she’s  got  before  hannah’s  forced  to  look  at  charles  square  on  ;  they’re  creatures  of  the  shadows,  forgiving  of  their  indiscretions  and  unsavory  vices,  but  the  candlelight’s  flicker  illuminates  his  deceptively  warm  features  in  such  a  way  that  she  can’t  resist  pressing  her  forehead  to  his  and  inhaling  deeply.  “  i  could  devour  you,  ”  exhales  from  parted  lips,  freshly  swollen  from  heated  kisses  ;  she  allows  her  gaze  to  fall  shut,  a  rare  display  of  genuine  trust  in  someone  who  feels  like  a  missing  piece  to  her  increasingly  hollow  existence.  it’s  almost  addicting,  but  hannah’s  rarely  been  above  succumbing  to  indulgences.  cerulean  hues  peek  open,  crinkled  in  the  corners  with  the  soft  laugh  that  traipses  off  her  tongue.  “  do  you  ever  miss  it  ?  feeling  a  pulse  ?  ”  mine  or  yours  wordlessly  tacked  on  with  a  nosing  nudge  to  his  cool  digits.

a  grumble  echoes  from  the  back  of  his  throat  as  his  only  response,  dulling  after  a  moment  solely  for  the  forehead  rested  against  his  own.  his  eyes  keep  open,  too  concerned  with  missing  any  flickering  reaction  her  features  may  give  way  to  to  ever  close  entirely.  charles  has  been  devastatingly  enamored  by  her  from  the  very  beginning ;  the  promise  of  eternity  has  never  felt  so  short.  voice  stays  on  the  level  of  a  whisper  while  his  eyes  map  out  the  curve  of  her  mouth.   “  sometimes.  ”  he  tries  his  best  not  to  think  too  much  of  the  life  before  this,  early  on  getting  too  wrapped  up  in  what  had  been  so  much  so  that  he  feared  his  heart  would  fall  straight  out  of  his  chest.  now  he  wonders  if  it’s  possible  to  want  this  any  more  than  he  already  does ;  if  having  an  elusive  end  date  would  make  him  savor  moments  like  this  so  much  that  he’d  implode.  “  but  more  like  heart  racing.  sometimes  i  forget  i  can  even  feel  nervous  about  shit  because  i  don’t  have  it  going  crazy  anymore.  ”   his  tongue  wets  his  lips  before  they  round  at  the  edges  in  a  smile.  “  would  definitely  boost  my  ego  if  i  could  feel  yours  right  now.  ”

her arms cross over her chest, a subconscious defense mechanism when he’s back in her peripheral. she practically welcomes the discomfort felt on the small of her back against the edge of the counter, the way it serves as a distraction to her from what she should really be focused on. she thinks she could go mute to avoid this whole thing, hold her breath while she brushes past him en route to the bedroom and crawl beneath the covers so she doesn’t have to see him again til tomorrow. that might do them both more good than the state she’s in now :  the way her blood feels hotter and hotter in her veins and how she has to take an extra moment to compose herself lest she sputter remarks of sheer annoyance into the air that separates them.

‘  do you know how many marriages end in divorce?  ’ cherry gives room for him to answer though the question posed is entirely rhetorical. ‘  i was fifteen when mine did and even though i watched them hate each other for years it didn’t make it any less painful.  ’ she swallows the lump in her throat, refusing to acknowledge how truly dreadful this topic of conversation makes her feel.  hopeful if she can just get through the next few sentences there’s a chance they can push on from this unabating limbo. ‘  i don’t want to end up like that. court dates, lawyers, fighting over who gets what ..  ’ words get more bitter and she has to stop herself from reminiscing too much on nights spent peering through a crack in her bedroom door while her parents would go on and on relentlessly. ‘  i don’t want to be someone’s ex-wife someday.  ’

desperation trickles into his fingertips,  twisting themselves further into shirt sleeves to hide the way his bones want to crack beneath the pressure.  maybe he had been idealistic from the start ;  too focused on the traditional plan that’s laid out before any couple and wanting so badly to fall in line with the footsteps of his own parents.  anger no longer hollows out his ribcage,  instead replaced by a solemnity he now thinks he should have adorned the whole time.  setting himself in someone else’s shoes had always been his biggest lacking.   ‘  it never even crossed my mind.  ’   his teeth find his lower lip as his eyes shuffles between the kitchen sink and her knees.   he works to keep his vowels soft and make sure the next string of words leave him softly,  void of any misconception of bitterness.  ‘  because it’s us and i assumed that we were on the same page and that   —-   i’ve never thought about an end for us,  and i didn’t think a ring was going to change that.  ’

  “  devilishly  good  looking  indeed.  ”  it’s  become  a  long  running  gag  on  her  show  that  pru  cooley  is  notoriously  awful  with  relationships  —-  she’s  not  malicious  by  any  means,  making  such  follies  unintentional,  but  she’s  skilled  at  getting  too  far  into  her  own  head  and  choking  on  long  repressed  fears,  insecurities,  the  little  damning  obstacles  that  can  sour  something  good.  she’s  fairly  certain  that  charles  had  made  his  first  call  into  the  show  when  she’d  been  bemoaning  another  failed  date,  her  quippy  remarks  and  exuberant  nature  not  always  taken  well  by  the  untrained  eye.  he’d  been  the  only  person  capable  of  the  earning  a  laugh  from  her.  the  fact  that  he’s  aware  of  such  faults  and  still  seems  eager  to  be  around  her  settles  pru’s  nerves,  but  …  does  his  interest  extend  into  actual  affection  ?  could  she  kiss  him,  lace  slender  digits  through  his  warm  touch  ? and  if  he  isn’t  interested   —–   could  she  blame  him  ?

 “  i’m  mildly  convinced  that  half  the  town  hates me,  actually  -  do  you  know  how  many  incoming  calls  we  have  to  ignore  so  i  can  keep  talking  to  you  ? ”  she  beams  around  every  syllable,  and  with  her  chin  demurely  placed  atop  the  palm  of  her  hand,  pru  coyly  tacks  on,  “  no  regrets  at  all,  though.  not  one  bit.  ”  her  cheeks  are  ripened  to  a  sharp  crimson,  and  she  takes  any  opportunity  to  drink  in  the  details  of  his  features  -  she’s  most  notably  taken  with  his  smile,  punctuated  by  two  dimples  and  a  certain  beguiling  nature  that  endears  her  impossibly  close.  quietly  resentful  of  the  tiny  wooden  obstacle  between  them,  she’s  unsure  if  it’s  sleep  deprivation  or  full  blown  yearning  that has  pru  desperate  to  entangle  herself  in  him.  “  oh  ?  and  what  if  i  said  that  i’d  be  thrilled  to  spend  the  day  with  you  ?  ”

his  lips  hug  the  rim  of  his  cup  for  a  beat  too  long,  lamely  attempting  to  use  the  coffee  as  a  scapegoat  for  why  his  cheeks  haven’t  yet  lost  their  charmed  blush.  charles  has  been  fortunate  enough  to  not  know  an  awkward  conversation  with  the  brunette  parallel  to  him,  too  often  basking  in  the  natural  lull  of  her  voice  while  trying  to  scrape  together  a  few  more  minutes  of  alertness.  one  more  conversation  to  tide  him  over  until  the  following  evening  ;   half  a  second  with  closed  eyelids  to  push  the  imagination  of  this  very  moment.  "  how  could  anyone  in  their  right  mind  hate  you ?  ”   the  pads  of  his  thumbs  press  into  the  spot  his  lips  had  been  when  he  finally  gets  the  nerve  to  set  the  cup  down,  occasionally  using  it  as  a  reason  to  guide  his  gaze  from  her.   “  i  would  offer  to  call  less  for  the  sake  of  the  town,  but  i  think  we  both  know  that’d  never  actually  happen.  ”

instinctively,  his  posture  perks  from  her  response  :  torso  leaning  into  the  edge  of  the  table,  lips  keeping  closed  to  help  minimize  the  grin  that  threatens  to  split  his  face  in  two.   “  do  you  want  to ?  ”   failing  to  keep  the  ardor  from  his  tone,  there’s  a  fog  of  apology  that  flickers  over  irises.   “  i  mean,  if  you  haven’t  got  any  other  plans.  and  if  you  think  you  can  stand  to  be  around  me  for  that  long.  i  might  not  nearly  be  as  interesting  as  i  am  when  i’m  sleep  deprived.  ”   it’s  merely  a  tease,  but  his  subconscious  is  desperate  for  an  out  if  she  did  end  up  finding  him  bland.    he  wants  to  reach  out  and  touch  her,  take  hold  of  her  hand  and  guide  her  out  of  the  coffee  shop  with  an  adolescently  excited  air  to  his  step  but  charles  has  yet  to  distinguish  if  doing  so  would  gross  any  boundaries.   “  you  know,  everyone  says  my  couch  is  the  most  comfortable,  ”   he  tacks  on  like  a  whimsical  challenge.

“deal. we’re getting married in….ten years.” she bites her bottom lip. “just don’t complain when you find me at the end of the aisle– remember  you signed up for this.” she hates that the idea of marrying him doesn’t terrify her. she hates the concept of marriage– of things that are meant to last forever but don’t. but the thought of them– together–like that– does warm pleasant things to her insides. has her looking at him for longer than she should. sometimes–when there’s enough whiskey to lower her defenses she wonders how he doesn’t see it. wonders if it isn’t obvious how gone for him she is.

“i look better in spandex than most of the men on that field. but i’ll admit….some…. butts are worth the cold and the lite beer.” she giggles softly– only stopping when he mentions ending the game. she rests her head on him– as if the chair was not enough support already. she just wants him next to her– warm–and comforting–and right. she tilts her head up, let’s her eyes sweep over the familiar line of his jaw– feels the tug– warm and strong– to just let her lips follow the line of it. she sighs softly. “no– we can play. ask me y’muppet. i might not drink anymore though. which means i have to be honest. but still–” she shrugs her shoulders. “that’s the fun of it.” she meets his gaze with half lidded eyes and a warm smile. “i promise there’ll be no throwing up.” she lifts her pinky as if the symbol alone could do something to prevent it. her braids spill over his shoulder. there’s a small irony–that one of the few times her hair is anything but short afro or buzz cut– there’s a change she might upchuck on it. or no chance if he has anything to do with it. she leans a little closer and nuzzles his neck. “out with the question, keeper of the braids. i promise i won’t put you on scrunchie duty tonight.” 

he’s placated by her response,  letting the softening of either corner of his mouth make as much transparent.  couldn’t even quite bring himself to fear the fact that ten years from now hadn’t sounded all that far to begin with.   “ i wouldn’t ever complain,  asshole.  that’s half of the reason for the suggestion to begin with.  best case scenario for me is probably marrying you. ”   it’s spoken so nonchalantly,  charles doesn’t even recognize any underlying admissions until he succumbs to the weight of her head on his shoulder,  body only leaning into her in response.  there’s no real point in trying to mend honesty,  although there’s a offered murmured that follows.   “  i’d have much better luck staying sane, and all that. ”

she finds herself holding her breath for a response, only for her posture to deflate when it comes. it’s past the point of fixing, she thinks. imagines herself with a hand down his throat, digging around for a tender i love you, we can work on this,  only to pull up the same defeatist verdict every single time. her regard tears away from him in surrender and she moves to gather her plate of unfinished supper, a heartbroken smile looming over her lips. ‘  you let me know when you figure it out.  ’ she doesn’t grant him another word, pacing into the kitchen and scraping her last few bites of food into the garbage.  it’s exhausting just being in his immediate vicinity.

ceramic plate is thrown into the sink with an aggressive clunk before cherry leans into the counter, face sighing into her hands for a sluggish few moments of contemplation. what could she do ? the fleeting though of her rolling up to her mother’s front door with suitcase dragging along behind her is becoming more tangible by the second. though supremely mortifying to end up back home in her late-twenties she’d rather warm herself up to the idea of it than come home tomorrow evening and face the same rigid awkwardness their relationship has come to. the mere thought of the latter takes away her motivation to do virtually anything.

his body momentarily deflates.  if this was how they were going to end,  it was surely one for the books.  thinking too much about how quickly they went from the highest peak to ground zero always makes his skin crawl ;  mind occasionally disassociating with the world around him to bask in the alternate universe where he hadn’t proposed and they were still in the same content phase they were before.  thirty seconds pass with charles stoic like a statue,  letting the clatter of dishes echo between his ribs.  it isn’t him,  he thinks.  it can’t be.  he hadn’t done anything but love her and if this was the only response he could get out of her then maybe secondary opinions were correct and they were better off apart.