19 (đđ), 14 (đâ€ïž), 11 (đđđ») and 2 (đŽ) // BECAUSE YOU ALSO SENT ME MORE THAN ONE OKAY
âš the way you said i love you!! â â â wuju like, @yuniveas?Â
perhaps, in retrospect, he shouldnât have gone.Â
perhaps, in retrospect, she shouldnât have begged him to go either.Â
the blankets arenât warm enough to make her feel secure- instead it becomes a tool used in vain to keep them patched together, holding her breath underneath as moonlight drifts over their forms through the small gaps of the blinds.Â
it hurts in this moment to look at him and she canât make herself to do so. a tiny tilt of the head is all it takes yet she doesnât tip back. sheâll bottle her feelings (itâs nothing new) and wonât peep a single syllable in the midst of tangled limbs and fingertips twisted in the unruly strands of raven black hair. sheâs not good with expressing to him when sheâs having a difficult time, coats herself in pride for being strong and possessing an amp control of emotions. a plethora of it is what she feels, drowning herself in an an ocean of thoughts. itsâ weight pulls her down, tugging until sheâs numb and unable to breathe. with the short amount of time spent in each otherâs solace, sheâs quickly gotten his quirks memorized and quite frankly, she hates it. she hates the fact that she knows him so accurately, from being able to nitpick what heâs thinking albeit being a sputtering mess, or hearing the shattering thoughts of worry in between the loud gaps of silence.Â
he doesnât go to her at 3 in the morning for nothing and she knows heâll leave it to her to fix whatever it is thatâs broken (everything). the scent of alcohol intermingles with his musky scent, arms wrapped securely around his shoulders when he tells her he needs to go. the tone of his voice is cold and she feels the ice piercing through the little strength she has left. sheâs holding out on a thin line of vulnerability, weakness ployed out for him to hold onto. the idea of leaving everything behind, what she knows heâs trying to hint, it silently tears her apart. Â
she struggles to get the words out from her chest, bitter against the back of her tongue as the black coffee she forces herself to take each morning before training. sheâs hit with a hurricane of tears when they line the brim of her lids, falling slowly, all at once. she reaches out desperately with outstretched fingers, a heavy, suffocating warmth swelling at the base of her throat until sheâs shuddering, âê°.. ê°ìë§.âÂ
if this is love, why does it break me down?











