Archived for Safety

“I love that you’re the book guy,” she remarked, lips curling in soft adoration. Her hands hung off his shoulders like an eighth grade dance date, but the way her fingers grazed the scruff of his neck lacked any awkwardness.

Gideon had (more or less) always supposed that his life, till now, could be divided equally into three parts – each part being a period of thirteen years.  He wasn’t superstitious about this number, despite his prowess in the darker arts, but still it made him wonder: Was this passionate moment finishing the sequence, or starting another? Where would he find her in, say, fourteen years?

"It's not like I'm any kind of Saint either, Gideon. We're just people." Both apparently self-loathing and wracked with guilt. Well, that wouldn't change on their own. She certainly wouldn't, anyway.

That - she, those words, the touch - was the strength he needed to collect himself (internally it looked something like a bowl of gelatin). “I was about to say the same, but it sounded so damn cliché coming from me…the book guy.” A ‘go figure’ shrug and then within a moment he was lost in the maze of her gaze, rich and irrepressible, and he gasped when at last her affection ran through to the final gesture. He longed to kiss her, her mind, her spirit; he settled for just underneath her leftmost ear… 

"I love that you're the book guy," she remarked, lips curling in soft adoration. Her hands hung off his shoulders like an eighth grade dance date, but the way her fingers grazed the scruff of his neck lacked any awkwardness.

“Gideon-” The sudden crack in her chest stilted her reprisal. Myna placed a hand over his, cupping his cheek by proxy. “I am really shit at asking for help. That doesn’t mean you’ve failed to give it. I just…”

“Helplessness is never on you.” The weight of his head was burdensome and the toil of his tears washed the salt of his hands into his eyes. “I have failed you, Myna, and I’ve failed myself. And I’ve failed every bloody friend I had before you were born…The guilty pa’ty are the ones who weren’t there when you raised your self in supplication.”  He peered through the lapse that his fingers’ natural curve gave, having the confidence that the things he was seeing were only phantoms of his past. “I don’t bring my problems to you, so why should you bring yours to me? I’m not invincible—If I was, I wouldn’t have laid half-unconscious while a boy watch his mother-” 

Her eyes flew open at that. Apparently only in ire did Myna find the courage to be bold. “You think I’m afraid of you? Sure, I’ll admit to being a cowardly fuck, ruled by my fears and the sorry attempts to avoid them. I may be afraid of being weak in front of you, of seeming ungrateful or being unable to show you how I feel. I’m terrified of you leaving. But afraid that you’d hurt me? No. Never even for a second.” If anyone had earned her trust, it was him. The earning was irrelevant. She felt right around him. 

His heart lurched uncomfortably as she called herself out.  If Gideon slept at night it was because she trusted him. It wasn’t a question, but he had to treat it as such; it was part of the long, invariable process of a lovers’ quarrel. “For the last time, I don’t think anything. I’m only askin’.” Even at a price, these things had to be done. He said nothing on this matter, weeping only on the inside…

"Gideon-" The sudden crack in her chest stilted her reprisal. Myna placed a hand over his, cupping his cheek by proxy. "I am really shit at asking for help. That doesn't mean you've failed to give it. I just..."

Dear Virgo, I wish I could read you. I wish I could look into your eyes and see all the things you’re not telling me. It’s been so empty since you’ve gone. All the light has gone away. I want you to know that when you bend your head and don’t meet my eyes, you are still too bright and beautiful for me to put into words. I want to tell you I love you. I want to hold onto you forever. I just don’t know if I can. - Gemini

Her eyes flew open at that. Apparently only in ire did Myna find the courage to be bold. “You think I’m afraid of you? Sure, I’ll admit to being a cowardly fuck, ruled by my fears and the sorry attempts to avoid them. I may be afraid of being weak in front of you, of seeming ungrateful or being unable to show you how I feel. I’m terrified of you leaving. But afraid that you’d hurt me? No. Never even for a second.” If anyone had earned her trust, it was him. The earning was irrelevant. She felt right around him. 

REBLOG IF YOU'RE AN RPER THAT ENJOYS CROSS OVERS

Fwa boulvèse. Times like these made the shackles of Cardinal Syn’s La Marche on level with a child’s game of re-entanglement. Gideon couldn’t reason away the haunting ‘Marengo’ melody that the comparison dredged up from his past…

“Maybe we should take a holiday togeth’h? You know, get away from the usual hum-drum and city smells. For the longest time, I’ve dreamt of a camper on the beach…I’m sure there’s room for two in there. If there isn’t, well, cosy’s not a bad adjustment.” He could see everything, even the little crustaceans clawing their first breath along the foamy shore. “I mean we’ll have the window,  and the dividing line, and–Myna?” He felt such shame, in that moment, getting himself lost in happiness and supposition while she was being torn apart inside.

At first she didn’t think he was even trying to listen. Push it away, ignore it and focus on the bright side. Maybe that was a British thing, or maybe that’s just how Gideon survived. Myna couldn’t shut out her own brain, so that technique never worked for her. 

Your muse has found my muse’s diary!