"that's beautiful," edmund plasters on a painfully pleasant smile for the stranger, wanting to fucking scream. it must be the fifth person to come up to regale him with, in excruciating detail, a story of what a fine woman syd had grown up to be and how great of a young couple they were all those years ago, running around, being cute all over the place. as if he left town and developed amnesia. as if he were some minor witness to a life they now remembered on his behalf. as if any of that is a good thing to relive right now. he scratches his cheek with one index finger, hand in his pocket, the smile beginning to strain. his eyes catch on the nearest face. the silent plea in them is entirely shameless: you must get me out of this.
// @hidehillstart
