Jun 2, 2016
@ncwwave
she’s sporting a black eye - and she really doesn’t appreciate the concern. her biting tone is intentional, meant to fight off any notion that she was anything but fine. ❛ it’s not a big deal, okay ?? ❜
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@ncwwave
she’s sporting a black eye - and she really doesn’t appreciate the concern. her biting tone is intentional, meant to fight off any notion that she was anything but fine. ❛ it’s not a big deal, okay ?? ❜
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@ncwwave [from here.]
there are band-aids stuck on the back of her hand, light fingers tilting his chin so she can examine the angry purples under his eye, the red welt on his lip. she’s grateful for the quiet of her home for once, grateful for the fact that she was so good at dealing with injury. each blemish on his skin is a biting sting on hers ; jesus, no one wants to see their friend like this, especially not when said friend was more like family. it’s then that alice realises no matter her past, she’d throw herself in front of each and every blow. ❝ you’re fucked if you speak up, huh. as if anyone’ll believe anything. i get it, man, but — fuck, is there anything i can do ? you can stay here for a few days, or something. kills me seeing you like this, bro . ❞
he’d been stupid. that was the beginning, the way he chose to start every story, even ones he only replayed mentally. after all, that was always how it happened--he talked back, or said ‘no’, or rolled his eyes. he did something, and it was met with a burst of pain and clouds in his vision. he hadn’t wanted to go to alice--he didn’t want anyone to see him like this. hands shaky, voice slick with resignation, he was the picture of weakness, everything he criticized others for being. “ nah, it’s not that big of a deal--he’ll calm down in a little bit. i just needed to get out of his house, get a break. does the bruise make me look tough, or is does it look like i lost a fight? ”
@ncwwave [it wont let me link to the post wtf]
it had started off simple enough ; a stupid fight, not one that should escalate into her fuming, chest constricting along with her fists. if he were anyone else, he’d be subject to one of her infamous right hooks, but she manages to keep her retort strictly verbal. ❝ why the fuck don’t you ? i don’t understand how you can keep your mouth shut – for once in your damn life, stand up for something !! i follow my heart and it gets me in a lot of shit but i’d rather be in trouble than stand to the side !! fucking hell, connor, aren’t you proud to be a part of anything ? ❞ rant over, she’s short of breath, eyes hard like green bottle glass. she needs a drink.
<<p>
his hands are shaking ever so slightly, years of forcing himself to stay apathetic making it impossible to actually say anything, to raise his voice or even seem more than irritated. he isn’t used to arguments where he actually cared about the other side’s opinion, and it is a situation that leaves him LOST.
“ oh, heaven forbid i avoid making people hate me. i have an image to uphold, and if that means keeping QUIET, i gladly will. just because you don’t care about impressing people doesn’t mean the rest of us agree. ”
as he speaks, he’s wiping away eyeshadow, and he drops his gaze to the smudged blue on his hands.