#hunglost

things you said. ( not accepting! ) @hunglost.20.things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear.

     catalyst is a multi-faceted thorn to the side, a thorn in a crown. a man, at best. at worst – well. john’s had his doubts before, and john’s had his belief, too. there’s something not-right, too-right about the teeth-bared, always-silent junior deputy. john knows he’s supposed to save him. ( joseph says only to understand them, little else. he says to love them. ) he knows there’s something beneath the exterior, behind lock and key. he’ll carve it out of him, a written confession borne from flesh and sinew. catalyst will walk the long road to eden’s gate. they both will. together. all he has to do is love them, all of them, love him – and what’s love without sacrifice? what is love when your sins lurk beneath the surface like so many snakes; like a serpent? their eden is no place for a second poisoned apple. 

     he’ll see.

     it is the second time that joseph has told him, slow and sincere, ‘ you have to love them. ’ care for them. the channel is as private as a public signal can manage. it’s rarely used, and, when it is, frequented mostly by the heralds. the feedback on the radio begins to multiply, static noise filling the silence between breath and sound. it clears, ‘ i’ve seen you young, i’ve seen you old, i’ve seen you – ’ an inhalation, cut short by joseph’s release of the trigger. it is his second warning. it is his last. the gates linger open for no sinner. ‘ don’t let your sin consume you. don’t let allow it to bury you. take them into your heart. love them. ’ 

     ‘ i do. ’ two quiet syllables say too much, and the radio creaks in john’s grip, his thumb digging into the cheap plastic. there’s a beat between the words. his heart beats hard and loud in the confines of his chest. joseph is the only person still alive who can make him feel this small. sometimes, when it’s late, he thinks he should mind -- but it isn’t his place.

     ‘ i will. ’

     he means: i’m trying.     he means: i can’t filter the line between obsession and tenderness.      he means: no one ever taught me how.

@hunglost

✧ ❛   03:04 .  TUESDAY     /    @hunglost .

              MIGHT  AS  WELL HAVE  BEEN  AN  ARROW ,      slung quick and precise into the crack of a wall .   the early hours of the morning bring about a certain   HONESTY   that the sunrise chases away ,  or that the   moon   keeps tucked to the shadows .  illuminated under cheap lighting and   sanctioned   to a world arguably separate from reality ,  adachi’s off balance   ——   thrown  off balance ,  unsuspecting ,  by such a simple motion . 

cleryc is familiar company .  he’s as much a  GHOST   as adachi is in this damned city  ——  curling through fog and silhouettes ,  avoiding people with a slow step ,  but watching as they retreat to pick them apart .  back and forth ,  again ,  again .   unnoticed .   insignificant .   cleryc makes adachi feel  WELCOMED  for once . 

but he would trade that feeling off once he’s   knocked   from thought .  cleryc leans back as if nothing happened while adachi struggles for his ground .   he blinks .   frowns .   the  goal  of such a thing is met in an instant ;  adachi is distracted and knocked down from his pedestal ,   and right back to a tangible plane .