dungeons and dragons {roy + martin}
Jun 24, 2017 16:14:46 GMT -5
Post by ᴥ on Jun 24, 2017 16:14:46 GMT -5
M A R T I N .
I know that apples are red. That's what I've been told, they are rich in pigment and look as sweet as they taste. Red is passion, they say, red looks how love feels and no matter how long I stare at an apple there is no such thing as red. I cannot miss what I have never known, nothing more than shades of black and white, grey and silver. In my world there is light and dark, blurry and clear. Glasses sit upon the bridge of my nose, so thick my eyelashes bend when I blink and still it does little to help. I can see no more than ten feet in front of my face and I guess that is how things will always be.
It used to bother me. Hell, it still does. To look in the sky and see nothing more remarkable than the asphalt burning my bare feet below and then the grass is only different in the way it peeks from in between my toes. It used to stop me. I would hide my head beneath the covers, running from cruel words spat by peers that cannot understand my world is so much different than theirs.
I bought one can of spray paint, there was no point buying another. I will never be an artist-
able to overcome my handicap and paint the world a thousand different colors that I myself cannot see. They blend together too quickly, becoming the same muddy grey as everything else,
as the sky and the sea and the ground. To say I live in monotony would be an understatement.
But that's why this is so fun. Baited breath, hands shaking as danger threatens to sink its claws into my back- tear me away from my brother and my family and just about everything else I've come to love. God, it's exhilarating. Pull the trigger, thick black paint sinking into the fractures of a white wall, like spiders webs or broken glass, it spreads.
Roy should be here any minute, but I'm eager to start without him. To paint naughty things and pretend I had nothing to do with giant penis suddenly splattered across public property. It's just as funny to me now as it was way back when we were kids, sleep deprived after nights of wandering about the house and finding whatever treasures our parents might not want us to find.
Sometimes I feel like such a burden. Clung to his arm because open spaces scare the shit out of me. There's nothing to feel- to anchor myself to. I walk in fog without my brother, sifting through nothing and I never know if there's going to be an end. If there is, I'll never see it.
No matter how many times I say that's okay- it's not. I cannot be my brother's shadow forever and yet I feel there is no substance but he to hold me upright.
I couldn't tell you who is older, but I know who's better. A knight, valiant and strong and everything a young boy wishes upon the stars to be. He can read books without his hands, talk to strangers without knots in his tongue and lumps in his throat. There's nothing I can do that Roy does not do better.
But that's okay, I love him for it.
And I hope those footsteps are his because otherwise I have a lot of explaining to do.
"A knight should never be late, Roy~."
The word bitch has already begun to crawl down the wall- wet and heavy and stinking of chemicals.
Not my best work but we've only just started.
