#remiwarnertfc

@remiwarnertfc

@remiwarnertfc

Rosalie couldn’t help the confused look on her face. Apartment? He lived in a house? And what did he have to tell her? Was he an undercover agent? Was he going to murder her? Was he moving away? Were they not really friends? 

That had to be it. 

But, she brushed it off, nodding and following until they both got into his car and took off towards a very different part of town. Definitely not Summerlin. Not even Henderson, where he’d taken her before. Biting her nails nervously, a million (most likely negative) thoughts ran through her head. He had begun to open his door to get out, and she asked, “Do you want me to wait here while you do whatever you gotta do?” When he shook his head no, she got out, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, fearful doe eyes taking in her surroundings.

The fuckin’ what?

You know... the succ.

It was probably reckless and stupid, two words that seemed to fit perfectly in Rosalie’s word cloud of personality descriptives, but honestly? What could he do to her that was worse than what had already been done that morning? Kill her? She’d welcome it, with the mood she was in. Hit her? She was just use to it. Besides, if his father was truly the same as hers, she doubted he’d want to follow in those footsteps. “Yeah. We better go.” She held onto the hug for maybe a second longer before letting go, brushing her hair from her face. She wasn’t typically a hugger - they terrified her more often than not, but there was a sort of camaraderie in understanding abuse, and it gave her a short feeling of security and vulnerability. 

"And it's all in how you mix the two / and it starts just where the light exists"

Remi closed his eyes, extending a hand, and with fumbling fingers located the volume button on the radio on the table, turning it up. The thrum of his pulse made it feel like his entire body was alive without his permission, though vacant, like his soul had left it. His eyes fell open, and there it was. The ceiling.

"It's a feeling that you cannot miss / and it burns a hole through everyone that feels it"

It was white. Remi knew that it was white, because that's the way it looked in the mornings, when daylight illuminated his apartment without him having to switch on any lights. It looked yellow now, in the glow of the light-bulbs, nothing but black outside of his windows. There was a crack. Or was there? Remi covered his face with his arm, feeling nauseous.