sadness was the only home he really knew after the move. it was the most familiar thing he had, other than recounting the way that his scars would still sting under the touch if you caught them just right. the one thing that did feel like foundation was this, but it wasnât his alone. theyâd spent countless nights here, wrapped under blankets, getting drunk on stolen liquor, whispering secrets that meant more then, than they were supposed to now. he didnât even know what they were supposed to mean now, considering things had ended due to differences that were supposed to be irreconcilable. apparently he didnât get his memories in the make believe divorce, or at least not the sanctity of them. regardless, he had whatever this was, the silence in the night interrupted by footsteps he knew could only belong to a single person. the audacity of her to show up here on the night he needed it the most, on the night, years ago - he would have needed her the most. a heavy sigh pushed passed busted lip, comforted by the pain, before he began to sit up. it was the anniversary of the accident, and he was still searching for something that numbed the pain, anything that didnât make it feel like it was still yesterday. âyouâve got really shitty timing.â he commented, dusting off knees of denim as boots met with ground, every intention on leaving, avoiding whatever this was, and whatever it could turn into. @discstersâ
