#inqustve

         eyes like dark whirlpools bleed sorrow just for him . should his admission fill her heart with pride , victory , excitement ? it just tastes like guilt , acidic aftertaste of the awareness of her own nature : she - abyss , made to lure , sink , rot . she wants to gift him smiles , spring - like sweetness , honeydew poured straight upon his tongue . she pictures him in shades of pink - hued sunsets , dream - like , as if he was nothing but a memory reflected through a hundred distant lifetimes , remembered over & over until what is left of him is a passing thought , is a vision . morgan tilts her head as if to see better , inhale better the scent & trigger some primal mechanism in her , some suggestion as to why she should care so deeply about his fate . why she would suddenly crucify herself , only for him to take his words back & deny there ever was a pull leading him to the abyss . no answer is awarded , but a sense of being pulled down under & having to reach out , cling to metaphorical lifelines . “ i could never feel good about dragging you down ” or is it him who’s clinging , is it her who’s pulling ? she disguises her voice with shades of a smile , though it dies right there on her lips & never makes an attempt at lighting up her gaze . trapped in between , like she often feels they are , in this place that seems to only exist for the two of them & their underwater talks , their out - of - body entanglements , their unwritten , unspoken love letters . as the smile dies , her gaze avoids him — rests , instead , on an inch of skin revealed on his wrist , mindlessly picturing the burns a rope could cause on innocent skin . “ though i suppose it’s pointless to apologize for our natures . but still , for what it’s worth — i am sorry . ”

‘ great to meet you . why’re you here ? ’ she’s quick to the point . sue her for being suspicious of a journalist . there’s really no reason for him to be here , and knowing that the principle allowed a stranger into the actual school , with actual children , is particularly outrageous . ‘ no offense , but not much happens in this town . so either you know something we don’t , or you know somethin’ we know , that you aren’t supposed to . which is it ? ’

          a  moment,  brief  &  blunt  where  confusion  flashes,  a  glance  down  at  the  head  of  hair  that  rests  on  his  shoulder.  one  of  many lulls in their  conversation,  the  empty  spaces  between  clipped  chuckles  &  shitty  jokes.  a  friend,  more  quiet  than  usual.  a  silent  need  for  distraction,  one  he’s  encountered  before.  nothing  like  his  own  remedy  of   insults  thrown  back  &  forth,  empty  threats  amidst  the  ambient  noise  of  the  traffic  below  their  soles.  hadn’t  thought  mouth’s  run  as  being  charitable,  just  …  normal.  but  perhaps  that’s  what  he  needed  most.  ❝    don’t  get  all  sad   boy  hours on me, kendrick. you’re lucky i don’t push you off the edge.  hell,  you’re  lucky  i’m  letting  you  wrinkle  my  jacket.  i’ll  have  you  know  this  is  premium  leather.  armani.   ❞   a  beat,  feigned  scoff  with  pointed  response,  gelled  crown  weighing  heavy  on  his  own  head.  what  time  is  it  ?  a  look  at  gilded  watch  before  remembering  broken  nature,  glass  shattered  somewhere  in  the  middle  of  the  night’s  adventures.  or  their  last  journalistic  escapade.  who  knows.  clock’s   hands  are  of  no  help,  hanging  amongst  serrated  face.  a  dramatic  yawn,  jaw  clenched  as  shoulders  rise,  falling  with  his  head  leaning  atop  the  other’s.  ❝   we  should  probably  get  back  soon.  ❞     no  move  made  to  execute  action.  the  inspecting  of  scraped  knuckles.  a  quiet  agreement  to  continuously  break  rules.  it’s  what  you  did  best,  after  all.   /   @inqustve

EYES WATCH, , taking mental notes as his speaks through his body posture brown hues slipping back and forth as she watches how he regressed back into himself,  as he did the small woman let her shoulder fall into his, her head turning lips pressing a soft kiss on his cheek, fingers helping lifting her up so she could reach it from where she was sitting, coraline pulls back watching as he turns his head, her eyes meeting his own, she lingers unmoving as she gaze at him, ,  a small smile tugging at the ends of her lips as she turns her head back out to the view of the illuminated city, , she allowing her shoulder to still meet with his own, “ i dont think ive ever truely really looked at all the lights, ,” a soft airy laugh leaves her chest, “ i have this whole city to stare at, , a view i paid for when i bought this place -- “ she turns to look back him, “ but i think i like this view better. . .”  her voice was soft , ,  “ -- much better. “

             EYES ARE DARK AS THEY ROLL BACK IN HER HEAD , that was always the pesky thing , that they couldn’t quite control the eyes sometimes . they know he knows , they’ve gotten a little too cocky since their little adventures started , stealing the young girl’s body . ‘ do you think you can actually help her ? ’ a pause , hands tightening into fists and letting nails dig into their palms . it couldn’t cause physical damage to those who eden cared about but they could taunt and torment and spin webs of lies to plant doubt in their mind , to cause a more psychological harm that didn’t leave such visible scars . ‘ i could cut her hands , cut her up and plant the idea that you did it to her . ’ they didn’t like him one bit , he was getting in the way of their plan . ‘ i could make her hate you , but then again who’s to say she doesn’t already . ’

THERE WAS A BEER in one hand, and the other was propped up against a shovel. nodding towards the other man, he lifted his bottle up as if in toast. “if you’re taking pictures, make sure to get my LEFT side. it’s my handsome side, mate.” obnoxious as ever. 

        her gaze rests upon him for a while , appreciating their similarities — bags around their eyes , eyes bleached - out by whatever form of self - medication they have chosen . perhaps he is meant to be a mirror , & give back a more appealing rendition of her apathy so that she may understand it , perhaps even grow fond of it . but she feels fond of him already : like a long - lost friend , regaining their place in her heart . “ i do miss sleepless nights ” , morgan shifts on her stool , straightens her back — something cracks , her bones checking for initial decay . she sighs . “ i feel like i’ve been asleep the whole year ” .