♱ rem ♱

rem ⋆ she/her ⋆

۶ৎ i draw, write, and edit <3

it goes like this:

the bullet pierces you the moment you see him inside his cushy stanford apartment, smooth hardwood flooring with no trace of motel carpet or the permanent, stale smell that clings to it. his hair is longer than you've ever seen it, long enough that dad would hate it but not enough to impair him as he sends your back thudding against the hardwood floors like he isn't a day out of practice. you fall back into brotherhood in the same way, as if you haven't awoken every morning in his absence instinctually glancing at the empty bed beside yours. as if you haven't spent the past two years hollow and aimless, not much of a person at all. as if there isn't a hole inside you, one partially filled by dad's presence when you follow him on hunts, but never by the booze or the hookups or the rush of blood in your ears after a fresh kill.

but, in that stanford apartment, the bullet breaches your skin and you could swear the hole inside you was never there at all. there's no longer an empty space beside you in the front seat nor the motel bed adjacent to your own, and you love it as much as you understand that it's no good. the bullet is still ricocheting within you, piercing and tearing things too vital to ignore, and you know it will destroy you both. having him by your side makes you weak, makes you hurt him and makes him hurt you, too: split lips and punches thrown and words neither of you mean but can never take back. and the bullet hurts like a bitch, feels as if it's turning your insides to mush. in your worst moments you wish it would just leave, convince yourself that you preferred the emptiness preceding it. but now that it's there you know it will never be the same as before; you know it will leave behind a larger emptiness than it found.

it does.