“i’ll stop crying in a minute … i can’t help it.” hahah good times amirite
THE OUTSIDERS STARTERS / ACCEPTING
no damn way he’s crying too . no way in hell . he drank too much . but then , they both have been drinking from the fruit of the vine . it’s usual , and how it goes . but now , they’ve crossed something , and he knows he never wanted to see the other side of this threshold . each anxious finger he’s put between his teeth tonight is bloody , his nails long shredded down . the knuckles had gone next , they’re red raw at the joints . as a boy they’d all done well in labeling him ‘ BITER ’ . he nipped at the fingers of the doctors more than once . old habits , and all that . there’s a part of him which wanted to ask charlotte about her childhood , right there . another is too afraid to .
TRUTH . he watches the tears slide down her cheeks like they are made of precious materials ; pulled from the earth , filled with breath , with words and teeth . he hasn’t yet seen her quite like this . but then , what does he look like ? he detests the thought of it . his old man’s voice is alive and well in his ear : YOU LOOK SO FRAIL WHEN YOU CRY . he knew it as true then as it is now . he’s a bird-boned thing hiding in nails and skin , he’s lying to carry himself through life as anything other than . besides , they know he’s a deceiver by the scars he bears , a weak man who cloaks himself in cruelty . even still with her . but she doesn’t look weak now . no , charlotte looks ALIVE .
he’s been smiling grotesquely still , through it all . but the glassy sheen in his vision is unmistakable . what had prompted this ? ah. that word , that fear . alone . he wonders if she sees it on him . maybe she’s still too concerned with her own tears , those which he makes no move to quell . he wouldn’t know how to , even if he tried . he’s made it clear for her in past confessions : i look at people , sometimes i talk to them . i collect their stories , learn their lives . but i feel nothing for them . he fears looking out into the wood to check if his beast smells this bitter weakness on their lonesome pair . he fears more that it will drag her out to the dark , and devour her whole . these are dire times , indeed . there is no scripture for the disciple to crawl back to . for now , miraculous charlotte is undone before his eyes . just as he’d always wanted for her . is this her heart between his teeth ? no , this is someone more profane than a consumption . it is his turn , now he shares the worn black fleece of her loneliness . he feels his gnarled guise of absence is slipping , only enough for her to see past him .
there aren’t enough curses to be spat when his smile falls . not enough teeth and claws in the world to tear her to pieces for spite’s sake . but he knows he would flay himself if he ruined her . he would not be forgiven . he does not want to share her pain . he does not want this . so instead , he rises , picks up the depleted bottle of whiskey and retreats back into the dark to dispose of it . he’ll be cruel , and let her feel what it is to be alone a moment longer . he knows she knows it well .
-- so . bless your heart , charlotte .
