#toendwar

a hand on the small of her back, turning her leaving frame towards his. Chin tilted upwards slightly, looking down at her with ease. Trying to war with the silence that stretched between them. 

“ You think that scares me? “ He asked, other hand settling against her hip. “ You’ll have to do better than that, Diana. “

Your reunion is a strange one; of this, you have no doubt. You’ve been gone for so long. You’ve changed so much. And she? She hasn’t changed at all. She is like the ice to your weathered mountaintop; her coldness is reminiscent. You can smell her anger from here---mingling with pain and hurt. And you know all of it is because you’d left her without a word, without a warning, without a goodbye.

She should have known this would have happened. She should have expected this from you.

          the world was mourning.  superman was no more.  he’d given his life protecting the very people that had tried to hang him for being different.  the events that unfolded were like something out a nightmare arthur woke up from time and time again.  he’d always wondered what would happened if the world discovered the powerful that walked among them.  those that could fly faster than a speeding bullet, a former king who refused to die, and a traumatized millionaire supplied with a personal arsenal.

          arthur had flown to paris, partly for pleasure but, mostly, for a friend.  a steaming cup of coffee is held in one hand and several freshly baked croissants in the other ( in a bag, of course ).  he wandered the halls of the louvre until his gaze fell on the one he was looking for.  a smile starts stretching across his face.

HE  DOESN’T  KNOW  WHAT  TO  DO.  Throat  dry,  and  FEET  stand  still.  He  is  ALL  awkwardness,  and  MELENCHOLY  BLEEDS.  How  he  wishes  he   could  be  ANYONE  else  in  this  moment,  WILL  he  ever  be  what  SHE  needs  ?  Bruce  doesn’t  want  to  think   about  that  BIG  ambiguous  question.  Thing  is  ?  He’ll  constantly  disappoint,  NOT  out   of  want  but  out  of  sheer  DUTY.  He’s  SUPPOSED  to  be  this  billionaire,  this  LARGER  than  life  figure,  and  PERHAPS.  PERHAPS  if  he  had  been  dealt  a  different  cards  he’d  be  a  DIFFERENT  man.  DIFFERENT.  The  word  resounds,  and  FILLS  up  headspace.  He  looks  at  the  woman  who  is  in  his  STUDY  now,  and  he  wishes  he  was  WORTHY  of  such  words.  Then  again  he’s  doing  what  he  does  BEST,  he  ASSUMES.  

He’s  still  not  over  it,   the  day  he  woke  up  alone.   How  could  he  be?   It’s  an  impression  that  won’t  go  away;   an  echo  of  a  short  moment  in  time  that  sustained  long -lasting  effects.   It’s  a  souvenir  of  a  love  lost  that  seeks  refuge  in  the  deepest  part  of  his  brain  where  memories  go  to  die   ----   so  why  hasn’t  it  died?   

That  morning,   it’s  still  with  him,   latching  onto  his  thoughts  and  refusing  to  let  go.   The  aftermath  of  something  that  he  dared  to  consider  real  ended  up  being  just  another  reminder  of  how  he  always  played  the  fool.   He  fondly  remembers  the  pacing  in  his  bedroom,   the  tears  he  allowed  himself  to  quietly  cry,   the  way  his  lips  met  the  bottle  one  too  many  times.   Hours  turned  into  days,  into  weeks,  into  months.   She  didn’t  care  about  him,   so  why  should  he?

It’s  embarrassing,   the  way  he  so  easily  fell  back  into  a  pattern  of  familiarity.   The  drinking,   the  drugs,   the  late  night  fucks   ----   it’s  a  vicious  cycle  that  he  knows  all  too  well  which  is  why  he  so  easily  found  peace  within  it.   Pain,   confusion,   regret,   that  empty  feeling;   it  all  hurts,   but  hurt  is  the  only  thing  he  can  depend  on.

Now  she’s  in  front  of  him  again,   speaking  words  that  ring  with  jealousy.

                 How  dare  she  ----

Fingers  drum  atop  the  table  they’re  seated  at.   Deep  brown  eyes  stare  daggers  at  the  woman  across  from  him.   Teeth  collect  the  skin  of  his  cheek.   “  What  do  you  care  what  I  do?  ”   He  scoffs  and  it  somehow  turns  into  bewildered  laughter.   “  You’re  the  one  that  left  me.  ”   His  words  are  sharp  and  venomous;   the  reminder  is  supposed  to  bite.   It  pains  him  to  treat  her  this  way,   but  her  actions  pained  him  all  the  same. 

Quickly,   he  reiterates,   “  You  left  me.  ”   There’s  no  hint  of  remorse  as  his  stare  grows  heavier,   more  intense.   “  I  was  finally  starting  to  move  on  and  forget---  ”   a  lie.   “  ---but  now  you’re  here  again,   and  for  what?   To  hurt  me  a  little  more?   To  remind  me  that  I  wasn’t  good  enough  for  you?  ”   It’s  pitiful,   the  way  he  allows  his  wall  of  anger  to  grow  so  easily.   Sadly,   it’s  the  only  thing  he  trusts  to  keep  him  safe.   He’d  let  his  guard  down  before  and  the  result  is  more  than  enough  reason  for  him  to  never  want  to  do  it  again.   

             @toendwar​​​ said :  ❛   everything  that  defines  me  is  nothing  that  i  am.   ❜

                                                          one sentence poetry 

         the god of thunder lets his gaze drift to the hammer that rests on the table in front of him . a glass is full of whatever he could find laying around in the cabinets but will not relieve him from any stress due to its lack of potency .  ❝ then why don’t YOU tell me what you are . enlighten me on who you are , not what the world sees you as . there is only one person that knows the true version of you and that is yourself ??  ❞ 

        ❛        you’ve  gotta  admit  ,  this  is  a  strange  time  to    be  alive      ❜