* / 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 .

                             𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓  𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓  𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚  𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔  𝒉𝒊𝒔  person   ,   it’s  in  his  hair   &   his  clothes   &   his  skin   .   he  feels  like  he  can  breathe  glitter  at  times   .   though   ,   it  does  little  to  complement  his  dark  circles   &   clammy  skin   .   hangovers  are  reminders  that  even  buckets  of  glitter   &   whiskey  can  only  help  him  escape  for  a  little  while   .   his  meek  little  heart  won’t  ever  admit  to  what  he’s  escaping  from   ,   so  how  is  anyone  else  to  know  that  his  ribs  shatters  each  time  he  breathes   ?   sour  patch  wants  to  keep  it  that  way   —   no  murmur  of  the  cracks  in  his  bones   ,   of  the  idealism  he  can’t  ever  hold  in  his  hands   ,   will  ever  reach  his  lips  of  his  own  accord   .   as  his  heads  pound  with  the  idea  of  regret   &   shame  rising  in  his  stomach  into  his  chest   ,   he  seeks  comfort  in  her   .   sometimes   ,   he  thinks  about  telling  her   .   he  daydreams  about  telling  her  the  mosaic  he’s  built  out  of  the  space  between  his  lungs   .   that  would  make  her  belong  to  him   ,   however   ,   &   it  wouldn’t  be  romantic  for  her  to  belong  to  him  when  he  doesn’t  belong  to  himself   ,   either   .   so   ,   for  now   ,   until  his  heart  no  longer  belongs  to  glitter   ,   he  mutters  a  sleepy   ,   ❝   i   could   never   .   you’re  in  my  dna   ,   honey   ,   like  how  bees  can  never  forget   nectar   .   ❞   he  laughs  a  little   .   ❝   i’m  your  little  bee   ,   buzz  buzz  buzz   .   ❞

                             𝒉𝒆  𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒔   &   𝒊𝒕  𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕  sounds  like  the  way  a cloud  would   .   he  shakes  his  head   .   ❝   i  wouldn’t  expect  you  to  swoon  but  now  that  we’re  here   ,   i  wouldn’t  mind   ,   ❞   sour  patch  chimes   .   he  wears  a  sheepish  smile  with  a  rose  hue  dusting  his  cheeks   .   but   ,   he  supposes  it  comes  with  the  territory  of  playing  for  an  audience   .   ❝   only  one  song   &   only  it’s  because  it’s  in  that  one  movie   .   ❞   his  admittance  isn’t  shame   ,   but  it’s  still  rather  meek   .   he  plays  the  beginning  riff  to  ❛   immigant  song   ❜   ,   though  doesn’t  sing   .

                             𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄   &   𝒆𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓   ,  𝒉𝒆  𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒔  the  spot  beside  him   ,   an  invitation  for  some  company   .   he’s  learned  that  it’s  always  best  to  offer   .   the  worst  that’ll  happen  is  that  it  gets  rejected   &   he’s  genuinely  scared  of  missing  an  opportunity  of  making  someone  feel  better   .   it’s  a  hardwired  notion  in  his  brain  that  he’s  born  to  help  people   .   sour  patch’s  smile  is  genuine  though  it’s  hardly  not   .   even  when  it’s  hiding  something   ,   the  smile  is  always  true   .   ❝   thanks   !   that  means   . . .   a  lot   ,   actually   .   i’ve  been  practicing  since  i  was  young   ,   ❞   he  explains   .   he  adjusts  himself  enough  to  start  playing  a  simple  tune   ,   something  that  he  didn’t  have  to  focus  on  too hard   .   ❝   you  can  call  me  sour  patch   ,   like  the  sour  patch  kids   !   it’s  like  one  of  those  nicknames  you  can’t  grow  out  of   . . .   what’s  your  name   ?   ❞