only gets colder.

roland’s always been quickly enamored. ( his downfall, everyone would always say. ) there’s something about people that captures his entire being, even when a word hasn’t been shared. it still baffles him a little bit that some find more comfort in steering away from company, but roland’s sure his own habits could easily be pinned as abnormal. 

           it’s an ill-based, animal-fused need to feel his chest against hers. and when she does, it’s this bare electric of skin on skin that sends a shock teething down her spine. a shock like that could leave someone paralyzed. mercy – fuck, she needs him a pair of lungs or the oxygen that keeps them fluttering away in her metal rib cage. the heat builds, a harsh and unforgiving inferno from the depths of her core. rooted and infected every piece of her. can’t he feel her breaking? she’s moaning, though. a lyrical beautiful and sad sound like a violin. she needs him so badly; she’s completely relying on him. her pout breaths a set of whimpers. she’s so caught that she doesn’t process what he’s doing. all she can feel is her feeling. “ — don’t you worry about that.. “ it takes a lot of her just to say that without tripping on her words or her own feet. but then she thought too soon and she finds herself tripping back against the dressing room’s vanity. but he doesn’t need to worry about time. everyone that saw the concert is rushing out and the traffic is thick. and since they didn’t leave right after, they’ll have to wait at least an hour before departing themselves. and even if all that wasn’t in factor – she’d make the entire world wait until they were finished. if she doesn’t have him now —well, it’s better if she does. 

it was always a mystery to her when students didn’t take their studies seriously, or as seriously as she had. all the studying she’s done (while being a social butterfly and busy bee to boot), managed to get her the highest grades possible and she still did the extra credit work. it was a bit sad when one actually sat down to think about it; school was her life and she did all that she could to avoid home. being with jet and roland was another avoidance and she was very much attached to their hips when not at the library… or with her cats. ocean hues drifted down to the text book and her notes. would making him a copy of them help at all? she did have an extra for situations like these. glancing up at august finally, skye chewed her lip and leaned forward. mma fighting? was that what he was going to do when school was over? she had to admit that she was impressed and that he honestly didn’t need chemistry for that. “yes, hobbies..” tone was lighter and much softer then as she listened to the other intently and thought. “is tha’ wha’ you’re goin’ ta do after high school, then?” brow quirked and head cocked ever so slightly to the side. “alrigh’, i have an idea.. how abou’ we go ta the gym, then? try ta incorporate this in your fightin’?”

it had been a hard decision, possibly the hardest decision of young ramsey’s life. it was a choice that needed to be made, no matter how badly she wished to ignore it until the situation sorted itself. it was scenario right off a corny rom com; roland loves ramsey, ramsey loves august, august loves… well, himself. with roland it would be easy.. she was his soul mate and he loved her, had no problem showing it either but there was one tiny problem…ramsey didn’t love him, she loved his brother. it was like like trying to breathe with a bag over her head; hoping the next struggled inhale would be the inhale that finally allowed air into her lungs, maybe the next sweet word or gentle touch would be the one that made him fall in love with her.. it had taken her quite a bit of time to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t meant for him.. even if he was meant for her..it was messy.. it was all messy but ramsey had to do what was best for her.. she had to be with someone who would love her unconditionally and that person was roland. 

a knock at the door brought ramsey to the peephole, seeing a mess of brown hair front he back and assuming it was roland. she had opened the door, grin on her face as she rambled on about him forgetting his keys as she realized quickly the moment he turned that this curly haired boy wasn’t her curly haired boy. she allowed him in, running off to roland’s room to slide on sweats, not that his shirt hadn’t covered all her important bits but she couldn’t help but feel to exposed to the man who had broken her heart. 

ramsey leaned against the counter, willing her hair to stay in place to hide the bruise roland had left so plainly, wishing she could spontaneously combust if it meant she could be out of this situation. “uhm, yeah..” she nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the orange juice in his hand so she wouldn’t be forced to look him in the eye. “he should be back soon.. if you like, wanted to wait? he just went to get some breakfast..”

a breakfast run. how goddamn domestic. august was well aware of the lack of vindication for his feelings. he had been the one to blatantly ignore her. when she had first come into his life, and every day thereafter. his actions had made it difficult for her to stick around, stilted silences the only space to breathe between poor conversation starters. and it didn’t help that august had hardly maintained eye contact with her whenever she had spoken to him ; like maybe ignoring her presence altogether would have brought him the comfort of her absence. the day she had decided to find someone better was a sole product of his own doing. he just hadn’t thought the person who would open their arms to her would be his brother. 

          violet can’t really feel the pain at some point, she just goes numb and observes her work on her upper thigh after she put her phone back in her pocket; she isn’t expecting more texts. it’s kind of fucked up she’s got to this point but next to her party life style alcohol and drugs just didn’t seem to do the trick for her, to erase the guilt, pain and the hollow. she loves chaos and noise, however the room is quiet now and there’s something mesmerizing in her open wounds that would form into scars that haven’t entirely vanish, like the memory of her best friend, stays with her. her phone signals again and she checks the id, slightly frowning but answering the texts nevertheless.

text: i’m not sure about you, but i’m just the same old text: sometimes i see look-alikes too, it’s weird text: chicks dress all the same these days text: hey… text: how much did you drink?

          she tries to keep her responses relatively normal; being forced to see a shrink already gives a different idea for the public, even if she insists on being just fine. she figures he’s drunk and for some reason she just managed to ask the obvious, which only makes her feel dumb and yet it is kind of good to talk to someone who is probably suffers just as much or more than her.

        the thing about losing someone is no one can bother putting it into words. nothing that would resemble half of the pain that’s currently clawing at august’s insides, at least. nothing that could give him the resolution that he wasn’t letting himself grow mental with the loss. and it never stops. there isn’t a fraction of a second that august has to breathe without his chest tightening immediately after, heart twisting like it’s trying to tell him he doesn’t deserve another breath if she isn’t around. ( and if he wants to be completely honest, that’s not exactly something he can disagree with. ) 

text: duno  text: doesnt matter reall y 

he hated the way the words settled on the tip of his tongue, begging to be let go in a manner that would hopefully have her breath stuttering in her lungs. some sort of visible reaction that would give august the justification for the terrible person he’s become. it’s difficult to look at her, nevermind stand beside her, because his heart gives an all too familiar lurch in his chest before it’s plummeting to his stomach and august knows there’s no one to blame but himself. ( his memory still burned of the wrinkled bed sheets and the reluctance he exaggerated whenever she had to borrow one of his shirts for the sake of softening whatever assumption anyone who saw her leaving his apartment at 8am would have. )