anderson da monte {ten} finished

He takes comfort in pens and paper, letting the aftershocks spill ink instead of blood.

anderson
anderso
anders
ander
ande
and
an
ang
ange
anger

alida
alid
ali
al
alc
alco
alcoho
alcohol

What a beautifully broken family.

He can't remember when the rage first broke the surface of his being and etched itself into his nervous system. Perhaps when his sister first picked up a bottle of liquor and he watched her turn to glass like the ones she tips to the sky when it's her that should be reaching for the clouds above instead. Perhaps when he saw Dane lay eyes on the supernova waiting to consume them all with wild red hair and fire in her eyes and something in him snapped - hope exploding, then disappearing into nothingness. Perhaps when he took his first breath in this terrible world or when his mother took her last.

It's always been there. Watching. Waiting. Watching. Waiting to strike-



-he can't remember.

Anderson wakes up on the floor with blood on his hands and a heartbeat in his throat.

Ticking underneath their skin - one laced with liquid death in her veins and another with tremours dancing through his muscles - the two da Monte children walk through life with a time bomb in their system and a blonde shadow by the name of Dane Allore. Or Dane Mirchoff. It changes, a snap, a forgiving smile, playing Russian Roulette with the identity of someone who doesn't really know who he is.

Anderson does, though. A people-reader, introversion swallows his words and he;s left to study the ones around him. Dane is everything: the dark, the light, up and down, unpredictable and easy to guess. An aftermath of contradictions to suit the ones he spits back out at you. He is everything, right there in front of him, and yet Anderson knows he will always be everything except his own. After 8 years of lust and longing and unrequited adoration Anderson swallowed his pride and finally marked the love he could never have with six small letters: unspoken words for a love lost like his father's.

He can't speak. The aftershocks take care of that.

dane
dan
da
dan
dang
dange
danger

Dane Allore is a dangerous boy who may just be the death of him.

There's scars on his back that tell tales of both work and play. He much prefers the play part but Anderson is not lazy. He works damn well hard, as his father would say, although he doesn't hear much from him lately. Their mother stole his voice, his passion, his drive to live. Whilst his father's eyes dimmed Anderson's still glowed - big and bright and blue For a moment Andy had slipped into Dane's dust-covered shoes and felt the last remnants of his parents fade away and almost instantaneously snapped back into reality in the blink of an eye. He still has a family after all. They're as bad as each-other but somehow make the perfect trio: Alcohol and Rage and Danger. All in the same, yet all somehow different, the three of them are bound together by what it truly means to be family.

A magnitude of distance and quiet moments, he conjures attention with direct words spoken in short bursts of logic and thoughtfulness. He never questions his siblings, whether they be of blood or signatures on paper, but he questions anything or anyone that gets in their way. Anderson is not a man of questions - he is a man of answers and reason and proof. (Boy? Man? He's still not quite sure. 'Twenty' hangs awkwardly around his neck, unsure whether to discard the number for his youth or take it to heart for his future but all the while desperate to find an answer.)  

He does not question his father's quiet ways or weekly trips to his mother's grave. He does not question his sister's relationship with boys or bottles or both, but he still goes with her when the stars light the sky because he knows what filth hide in the gutters of District Ten. He does not question Dane's past, for he was taught that Dane is family and that is all there is to say. 

He does, however, question the lingering disaster creeping her way into his circle. Anderson does not like change. He does not like disruption or chaos or threats of any kind. Death dances with his sister and his damned love and steals them both away. You see, Alcohol and Rage and Danger can't kill you - at least not in small doses. But Poison sure as hell can.

paige
paig
pai
pa
p
po
poi
pois
poiso
poison.