#treycore

It was cold outside your apartment that night—frost-nipped fingers taking refuge in your jeans as the mischievous wind tickled your nose and urged your scarf to meet your under-eyes. He loves the cold—something about falling asleep and not waking up, the serenity of it, has him feeling all domestic; He shifts in and out of the spectrum of human colours, only showing up in your peripheral as you power-walk to.. Wherever you’re going. Sometimes he chances fixing up your gloves from behind—you’d like that, he thinks, if you knew he existed.

Nobody cares for you like he does, and though he’s loath to admit it, nobody ever will—he’s eliminated everyone who makes you upset or inconveniences you, and now that you’re finally with him, seeing him for the first time as someone close enough to death to actually feel him, you.. Hate him? But why?

Death is the beginning and end. The very reason you exist; Once you’re over this petty couple’s spat, you’ll understand. He never meant to hurt you—it’s his nature to cull the good and bad away, making room for the raw vulnerability you’ve just shown him. This, you, were a valuable experience like no other.

Thank you, you’re perfect ♡