#deimosxccg

this isn't déjà vu. this is the same story destined to repeat itself again. maybe the third time’s the charm.

i.

it always begins with have you heard ? because curiosity is a shared trait throughout humanity. pandora wouldn’t have opened the pithos ; there wouldn’t be that saying about cats. of course you follow it up with about ? and the informant gladly relays the news, detailing something about dna and identification. a coworker overhears and clasps your shoulder. congratulations sounds like a death sentence. 

you are becoming more transparent because he asks did you not know ?  you didn’t. what would have changed if you did? fingers finding their home in his jacket — would you have dared to press your cheek against his scapula? the most you can ever do is hold his pulse between your fingers and even this is being taken away from you. 

i didn’t is all you supply. if this was a few years ago, perchance you would have clapped your hands, happy to be rid of a subordinate you barely knew. perhaps that was the beginning of it all, except it doesn’t matter when you are facing the end. 

( and our biggest regret will always be if only... )

two hours left and no gift to present. it is a day of celebration and to commemorate the dead — to award rising officers and thank them for their achievements, to appreciate what the fallen have done for future generations, to mourn for loss and rejoice in new beginnings. you are still coming up empty. flowers hold meaning but what message would you choose at this point in time? ( too blantant, too evident. give it all away and what do you have left? ) 

he’s expecting you. it has always been the little rituals that matter. the same standard assemblies, the same meaningless shifts of a tie as if two millimeters off center matters. it is always the senseless fussing that deem simple moments important: the accidental brush of the back hand to the clavicle or the jugular vein. excuses become unnecessary.

you know him like the back of your hand but it isn’t a one way street. hands will tremble and faces will fall and you couldn’t explain if you even tried. 

he’s expecting you and you fail him for the first time. 

ii. 

jang dongwoo is announced and the humans around you applaud. you follow suit because it is the code of conduct. 

( this must be what drowning feels like ) 

they list his accomplishments, his achievements, with a vague nod in your direction. you should be proud. they expect you to be. 

( this isn’t what i wanted still doesn’t change the fact that this partnership has reached the end and he has upheld his vows. who wouldn’t be thrilled at the notion of a promotion? ) 

the ceremony ends and you approach in the attempts to congratulate him

palms are warm against yours, facial features plastered to that of a pleasant smile like a mask the ghouls wear, and you tighten your grip as if you were trying to hold him in place with a handshake. perhaps you were, but moments are brief and social conduct dictates good byes to be short and sweet. 

but this moment was never meant to be yours alone. even if it were, would you have wanted it? coworkers flock, trying to express their joy and admiration. you take the chance to melt into the crowd, take a leave of absence. you ought to stay but you turn your back on him. 

adjustment period starts now. 

iii. 

how does one extricate oneself from a life so intimately intertwined? even an apartment registered under your name is not free from memories and attachment. how does the cleansing process begin? 

some part of your brain understands that this isn’t finality. there’s a grace period before the actual separation as they try to find someone to pair him with ( and you become an after thought ). 

eventually is the key word here. 

it is not that he’ll go missing as soon as the word partner fails to describe him but history has the uncanny ability to repeat itself. fear holds you back. ( what is fear without terror? missing halves. incomplete. ) 

what’s scary is that he won’t be the permanent presence by your side. what’s scary is the possibility of being replaced. what’s scary is that you’ll be the last to hear of his demise with the eternal guilt eating you alive. ( if only you had been there, certainly you could have done something. or died trying. ) 

you are suffocating from the weight of ifs. you need to breathe. you need a change of pace. 

[ txt → andrew ] this is a bit sudden but [ txt → andrew ] i was wondering if you had time for a movie  [ txt → andrew ] how does jurassic world sound? in 3d?  [ txt → andrew ] i’ll treat you 

please goes unspoken, you swallow desperation back down again in hopes to quell a rabid heart. 

now, what happens to the laundry list of desires? crumple it. throw it in the bin. or do you spread it out and follow through? without sheer proximity, excuses have to be generated. so what’s your choice? 

like all things, your heart is balanced upon a precipice. do you take the fall or back away? 

( make a choice, make it fast. time waits for no one. )