#survivedeath

‘     who the fuck told you  that  ?    oh,   wait,   let me guess   —   that’s one of the valuable life lessons you got while you were all shacked up with that sack of meat,   right ?    here’s a newsflash for you  :  normal doesn’t exist.    and even if it did,   we’re not it.    jesus christ,   you disappear for a few months and come back talking like they gave you a fucking  lobotomy.    what the hell’s gotten into you ?     ’

anger,   where he has no right to feel anger.    bitterness over things that he wasn’t there to witness.    he’s possessive in a roiling wave,   all resentment and teeth and corrosion  ;  why ?

because she left.

attachment isn’t love,   but it’s probably the closest he’ll get.

‘     whatever.    you wanna go play house,   fine.    be my fucking guest.    just don’t come crying to me the next time you’re choking down some half - rotted stiff ‘cause all of a sudden you’re too  good  to do this  right.     ’

‘     tease.     ’     flattery will get you everywhere.    unless there’s subtext of the  i need something  variety,   in which case   —   no,   he’s not surprised.     ‘     what’d you do ?     ’

they used to be inseparable.    attached at the hip   —   among other places.    but that was before she disappeared and reappeared and then disappeared again,   with the kind of people he’d very much enjoy eviscerating just because he  can.    so maybe that’s what this is about.    that  guy  she was seeing.

thing is,   she could still tell him  jump  and he’d ask her  how high.    he’s not soft  ;  he has a soft spot for regan,   but he’s not  soft.    even though he misses her sometimes.

he thinks that’s what it is.    that hollow feeling in his chest.

like something should be there and isn’t.

she hasn’t said anything.    looks  offended,   which means he’s probably on the right track.    he likes to think he knows her pretty well by now.    better than  that guy  does.

territorial.    not jealous.   there’s a difference.

‘     spit it out.     ’     a pause.     ‘     …  huh.    now  there’s  three words i never thought i’d say to you.     ’

‘     why would you think that ?     ’     for someone who lacks the capacity for  human emotion,   he’s doing a fantastic job at acting like a passive aggressive teenager.    it’s been a bad,   bad day.    he feels   —   annoyingly  moody,   really.    irritable enough that the smallest thing sets him off because the smallest thing might as well be an earth - shattering inconvenience.    he needs to kill something,   probably.

he sucks his teeth,   tongue edging canine  ;  that phantom limb sensation of ripping flesh and rich,   hot,   arterial blood.

not hers,    though.    never hers.

‘     you’re  fucking  me.    that means you’re supposed to take  my  side,   no matter what.     ’     blurted without preamble,    a petulant frown for emphasis.     ‘     and stop letting him push you around all the time,   it’s not a good look.     ’