“ that’s a little over the top, don’t you think? ” @ofrevival is pleading back at her, the “ none of this matters without you! ” still hovering its exclamation on his tongue & welling in the spark of his eyes. she’s doing the familiar song & dance this week, the manner of shoving out her palm to push him away before he can get too close ( before he can get under her skin, can get into her heart ), as though this tête-à-tête isn’t proof enough that his teeth are in her neck, sharp in the tender spot where her heart beats.
“ ------ john malkovich called & wants you to give his fucking audition material back. ” there’s that casual, cruel rebuke that she slants in to get him away from her pulse & cut him where his has a home. it’s a foil lanced into the meat of him, slipped into the aperture where his ribs split until it meets sinew & muscle. if her lip pares back over her incisor it’s because she wants him to see that she, too, can bite. she stills it, though, snuffs it under a firming, bustling chuckle pressed slim against her lips.
“ you don’t need me. ”
“ you don’t. you didn’t. ” she keeps lunging, keeps taking the momentum she has to bunt him further & further back. “ this is just … a distraction. ” // A MEME I CAN’T FIND
