Reaching {New heights} [Onyx]

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kousei ♚
Mentor

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Pronouns: He/Him/His
last seen May 7, 2022 17:23:18 GMT -5

now and forever

Reaching {New heights} [Onyx] Mar 20, 2016 15:15:53 GMT -5

Post by kousei ♚ on Mar 20, 2016 15:15:53 GMT -5

REE FER

{I have never reached such heights
Could heaven ever be like this?}

"He's so good!"

I remember those words loud and clear from last night. I let out a loud raspy groan onto this leathery piece of material. My head is pounding harder than a drum and boy it fucking kills. I inhale and suddenly cough, the stench of liquor strong in the air and it makes me gag and retch. The realisation is a heavy slap in the face. This isn't angel dust. It's booze and liquor, maybe diluted whiskey judging by the smell. I groan once again, still staring into the black induced by being face down on this leathery feeling material. I didn't get my hit yesterday, I went out and got smashed but not high; big difference.

I raise my head and a wave of bitter disappointment runs through me, I'm running out of time. I have to get my next hit or I'll get... I'll get those... I'll get the tremors, I'll start vomiting everywhere, and I'll feel like death itself. I need my next hit, I haven't gotten one in about four or five days? It's a deadly timer, I need to keep the cycle going, I need to get more money so I can get more drugs in turn - more drugs means no more getting ill and I can go back to being invincible.

When I look up my vision is hazed and blurred. Fucking idiot Ree Fer. I spent a whole bunch of my hard earned money on booze and not the good stuff. I settled for second best when I should've gone for the top, the proper hit that makes me truly invincible. Why would I do that? What the hell happened last night? I stop myself because I've long learned that there's no point in wondering what I did last night. Fragments and shards of my broken memory comes in bits and pieces, piercing my brain and giving me small bits and pieces but it's never enough - it's never the full picture.

Is it even morning?

I sling myself up and my feet touch the cold wooden floor and I quickly glance at the clock and a dry chuckle escapes my throat. The hour hand proudly points at the big one. One AM, I can definitely work with that. Why would I even go home this early? Did I get thrown out? No, it can't be, that simply wouldn't make any sense. "He's so good."Someone was admiring me at the table, unless I was doing so well they thought I was cheating so threw me out but even that's unlikely.

Oh well, no point in dwelling on it now.

I step away from the strong scent of booze that's now hanging in area and step towards a mirror and a tap. I'm taken aback by what I see, I look completely fine. My auburn brown hair is a bit tangled and curlier than usual and I'm paler than I would expect but all in all I look completely normal. There's no bruises, no cuts or scrapes and certainly nothing to indicate I was roughed up any anyway. "He's so good!" I certainly am, but I'm gonna be batter by the time the sun decides to show its face again and that's for sure.

An excited grin begins to form on my face, revealing my half-yellow, half-white teeth. Excitement begins to build up in my chest and my heart begins pounding harder than my head because I'm going to get that feeling tonight. Tonight I become invincible and transcend the gods; tonight I get my next hit. I grab a glass of water, put it under tap as I open it and begin to gulp it down just so that I can relax my pounding headache. Never again will I waste money on booze.

I leave the glass out and stride over to the table with a thin wad of money resting on it. What remains of my winnings after I wasted a good amount of it. I swear to ripred if one of my siblings has taken any of it I will physically beat them down to a pulp. Well, I wouldn't know anyway. Perhaps it's better that way. A wave of relief hits me because I still have enough. Just enough for at least a gram, maybe one and a half of the dealer's generous. But they never are.

I don't even bother to throw on a coat, I just rush out of the door; eager to transcend whatever higher being is up there with my invisibility.

Second become minutes, minutes become hours and everything: the streets, the light, the people, it's all a hazy blur as I search desperately for that next hit.

"He's so good!"

If I'm so good then how did I manage to get myself lost? The moon's white glare is off-putting as I trudge through the empty streets. I checked alleyways, bins and dumpsters but I'm met with disappointment because there's streets are empty. My once glazed over, unfocused eyes are hungrily searching for my next hit but I can't see a damn thing. "For fuck sake!" I growl, my hands stuck in my pockets to shield themselves from the biting cold. I've been prowling around in the cold for what feels like an hour but still nothing.

The cold breeze bits my exposed skin but I ignore it because I have other things to worry about. If I become invincible then this cold will mean nothing.

I keep walking in looping in what feels like endless circles before I finally find what looks like an abandoned building. Dealers sometimes hang out in empty buildings. A toothy grin forms on my face as I pick up my pace and dash towards the building. In seconds I've swung open the door to find...

Nothing.

"FUCK SAKE!" I curse, shaking my fist at my misfortune. My voice echoes through the buildings and I find myself bitterly chuckling. So that's what shattered dreams sound like. I'm gonna run out of time. I can't afford to be wasting time. I'm gonna feel it, the symptoms, I'm gonna get ill, I'm gonna get ill, please I need that hit... My brain is slowly working itself into a frenzy because I need that next hit even if it kills me. Perhaps it's broken hope and my fear of shattered dreams that stop me from slamming the door closed and to continue poking around the building for nearly half an hour.

I keep opening and closing endless amounts of doors, poking around and peeking to find someone, anyone who can give me something even though I know it's probably hopeless. I have money though... I'm still peering and feeling around when I suddenly feel my hand brush up against something wooden; but the walls are made from brick.

My movement is automatic, my head snaps behind me and of course I see a dull door knob sticking out from the door. Like a hungry dog I lunge for the handle pull it open and I'm half expecting to find a dark, empty dead end meet me but instead I see stairs. I raise my eyebrow in confusion. "Anyone there?!" I call out, silently begging for an answer but my own echo is what meets me instead.

I refuse to give up, I'm determined and I'll get that last hit even if it kills me.

Never been curious, never actually cared enough to be curious if I'm completely honest but this isn't a simple want to know. This is a need to get. I trudge down the stairs, not even bothering to close the door behind me, and I keep going down and down and down. One, two, three, four, five... Each and every stair counted and stored in the back of my brain.

It's stair one hundred and sixty when I start to hear the faint hum of some kind of music. It's a beat.

Stair one hundred and seventy is when I can hear humans conversing and screaming.

Stair one hundred and seventy eight is when I'm blinded by the collage, mixture of colours blaring through around the corner.

Stair one hundred and eighty three and I've stumbled upon the unthinkable.

The place is raucous and over packed with people. Lights flash and travel the room and right past my eyes. Confusion is heavy and concentrated in my brain and it manifests itself in three simple words. "What the fuck?"

Is this some sort of club? It can't be, the peacekeepers would never-

Wait why the fuck do I care and why am I complaining?

There's people here, likely doing illegal stuff which means...

A quick step, a quick tap and I find myself next to the first person I see walking past - some girl who I've never seen and I don't even stop to assess or ask her name. The simple age old question that I've been asking since I was at least fifteen years old and counting. As I ask it I'm as weightless as air and everything; the music, the people, the pounding, it's all silenced in my mind. For confidence my brain repeats he's so good! about half a million times. My voice is casual, effectively masking the desperation I feel at this very moment for that next hit.

"Can you supply me?"

Last Edit: Mar 20, 2016 15:18:43 GMT -5 by kousei ♚

Onyx
Capitol Resident

1,169 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jan 3, 2023 15:20:14 GMT -5

in between somewhere and nowhere

Reaching {New heights} [Onyx] Apr 1, 2016 5:58:28 GMT -5

Post by Onyx on Apr 1, 2016 5:58:28 GMT -5

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grow up, blow away

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why does it feel so good to die today?

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This underground cavern throbs like the heart of a dying giant with every bass note that pulses around it. The sweet stink of sweat flows through on the current generated by every person’s waving arms and swinging heads, and seems almost liquid in its denseness. My hair, the colour and texture of straw, sticks to my face and neck, even as my body convulses wildly in time with the beat. I am one with this living machine, a frenzied cell, a single, vital part of the whole thrumming organ. Every rise and fall of the beat is deafening, although the melody itself was lost long ago; not that it matters, we dance all the same. I’m amazed that the sound of our jubilation doesn’t reach the surface, but then I remember how deep underground we are, and how thick the walls of rock are on each side of this hollow space. This secret pocket of revelry isn’t a public affair. Not only do you have to know where we are, but you have to know the way through the maze of deliberately dug dead-ends and loops to find us, too.

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I’m high, there’s no doubt about that. My head feels far too small for my body and my ears far too large, picking up every echoing shriek and whoop from my neighbours even over the shrill ringing that won’t seem to go away. My hand momentarily goes to the patch which is stuck to the back of my neck, checking that the sweat isn’t making it peel off. ”The safest way of getting that feeling – no needles or nothing,” the girl I’d bought it from had told me. Clearly she herself was no advert for the cleanness of the drug – her teeth were stained so darkly they were almost shadows in her mouth, and her nostrils were each surrounded by a crusty halo of blood, marking years of undeniable powder abuse. I suppose she acted as a warning – “try the patch and you won’t end up like me.”

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As well as the drugs imbibing slowly through the delicate skin at the nape of my neck, giving me regular waves of blissful psychedelia, I believe with some certainty that there’s something in the air. With every breath, the pumping music feels heavier, almost textured, and the laser lights grow ever more vivid and frantic until they wave around the room with impossible speed. I have never met the hosts of these parties – there’s no way they come from my own band of renegades, and since outside of that group I technically don’t exist – an unperson, dead for years according to every census and record, free from the Reaping, – it’s in my best interests to stay hidden from them, or anyone. Perhaps I’ll get someone to find out, though. It helps to have diverse allies in this “business” of rebellion. And, besides that, I have respect for whoever can bring such joy, no matter how fleeting, to an otherwise tragic and hopeless place to live.

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People swarm in and out of the tunnels leading off this room like ant colonies, and I take little notice of them. What I feel isn’t exactly joy, but a sheer lack of inhibition. It’s the feeling that, apart from the dancing, the music and the drugs, Nothing. Fucking. Matters. I allow my eyes to roll upwards into my head and fling my head back, whooping and cheering with the people who surround me. My body is pushed and drifted around freely, like I’m nothing more than a plastic bag in a hurricane, with no control over my own movements. When I open my eyes again, I see I have been twirled half way across the room, and take a moment to orientate herself. If there’s one thing I was ever taught by my own experiences, it’s to never let yourself be lost in a place you don’t know. I look down and notice the lace on one of my heavy black boots – below Peacekeeper grade leather but the best we could steal – is starting to come undone, and I dance my way over to the side of the cavern to fix it.

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Who knew that tying a goddamn shoelace could be so hard? I think, as the laces blur in my vision and my fingers move in clumsy slow motion. For a moment, the black strands turn into ants and begin to crawl up and over my hands, growing in size and obscuring my fingers from sight, and I can feel their legs pitter-pattering and tickling my skin; but as soon as I blink they’re gone again. In the sudden clarity that follows, I loop one thread through the other and pull the knot taut. I mustn’t let myself get carried away in hallucinations.

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When I turn and see a tall boy, standing so close to me that he could be trying to walk through me, I think for a moment that I might be imagining him, too. If you were going to find ghosts anywhere in Battery City, it was going to be in this radiation-saturated caverns deep underground, wasn’t it? In the lights that flash across his face momentarily, his eyes seem to light up bright red. I can see the sharp definition of his chin and cheekbones – so unlike my own sunken moonface. He can never have known struggles like I have, so what is he doing here? This place is full of junkies, weirdos, outcasts and rebels – people who have come to remember a time when everything wasn’t so fucking bad. (Or imagine one.) I watch his lips as he tries to speak, but the music is so loud I can’t make out a single syllable. ”WHAT?” I shout, aware that my voice, if audible, must sound aggressive, maybe even offended, in my desperation to rise over the volume of the music.

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He clearly can’t hear me either, but I continue to watch his lips in case he does try to speak again. They’re set in a firm but patient grimace, like two wet loaves of bread. My own lips are cracked and bloody, when I lick them I can taste that irony tang that tells me I need to take better care of myself. You’d be surprised how hard it is to buy cosmetics when you live in an abandoned warehouse and, technically, don’t exist. I can feel my head going to that woozy kaleidoscopic place again, and for a minute his face blurs out of existence in front of me, turning him into a black hole from the neck up. I stare at him, wide-eyed like a buffoon, until the spinning stops again, and my hand reaches impulsively for the patch again. Pressing it down firmly, I try to speak again, roaring the question and making my throat feel rough, ”WANNA DANCE?”.

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His hand is cold when I reach for it. He clearly hasn’t been inside very long, and I deduce I must be the first person he’s encountered since coming in. Maybe he, like a rare few, ended up here by simply getting lost. It must be the least I can do to show him a good time. We make our way back into the middle of the throng, me leading, him being pulled behind me like a boat, through the stormy waves of people. I brush my hair out of the way and rub the patch again. Am I starting to get paranoid? Can he tell? People rub up against us on all sides and I press my body against his. He stands taller than me, so I look up at him infrequently – just to check whether he’s staring at me strangely, or suspiciously – and instead twist and rock close to him as I keep one sweaty palm firmly wrapped around his wrist.
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Somehow, being close to another person, dancing not directly with them but still with them, helps to calm the loneliness which I often feel sitting cold at the bottom of my stomach like mercury. My renegades act as a surrogate family for me, but that doesn’t stop them – us – being what we really are, which is a military unit. Can I remember my parent’s faces? A real smile breaks out on my face, unlike the previous few which were a result of drug-induced bliss, or a nervous spasm pulling my face muscles wildly around. Looking up at the boy again, I feel the absence of that loneliness – it’s not happiness, more just relief that here, now, I still can feel like this. Still smiling, I open my mouth as if to speak again. The boy leans down towards me to hear me better, and when he does I close my lips again and place one hand firmly on either side of his cheeks. For a moment, I see the startled, puzzled look on his face, mixed with that same stern anger from before, but I don’t dwell on it. Instead, I close my eyes, lean in towards him, and press my mouth firmly to his, declaring in one action my solid fuck it, fuck you, to the universe, and all the evil inside of it.

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kousei ♚ | 1530 words | lol sorry its long and late

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Last Edit: Apr 1, 2016 6:05:49 GMT -5 by Onyx

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

kousei ♚
Mentor

2,011 POSTS
Pronouns: He/Him/His
last seen May 7, 2022 17:23:18 GMT -5

now and forever

Reaching {New heights} [Onyx] Apr 6, 2016 14:21:26 GMT -5

Post by kousei ♚ on Apr 6, 2016 14:21:26 GMT -5

REE FER

{I have never reached such heights
Could heaven ever be like this?}

Everything's like a bad film. Stop, restart, rewind, pause.

The picture is never just right.

I swear every beat makes the ground boom and rattle, every beat pounds me ears and rattles my brain. Pause - my fateful question remains unanswered, it remains unanswered because she's clearly confused. Perhaps she didn't hear me over the crushing beat, loud oscillations ripping through the intangible air or the riptide of people flowing around the oversized floor.

Stop - maybe she heard me but she doesn't understand because she's not a supplier. Maybe I have the wrong person. Restart - I should leave, without a word. No words, no sorry and no excuses. Everything's under timed conditions and the clock doesn't allow me to explain myself to the ignorant. What would I even say? 'I'm killing myself and I thought you would help me, sorry!' Pause - I smile at my little internal joke but she don't find it funny.

Rewind - I'm standing face to face with this girl. "WHAT?" She shouts, I barely hear her over the sound waves ripping through the air. Barely, her shout sounded like a whisper to me; I don't know whether to repeat myself or not. Pause - Usually you can just tell who's a supplier and who's not but she's a blurred grey line. She hasn't got that innocent look, she looks like she's seen some shit and she doesn't look wet behind the ears. On the other hand, she doesn't exactly look rough either. Standing face to face I conclude that she's an enigma, somewhere in the middle of that blurred grey line; she's not black or white.

Restart - I should walk away right now but I just can't. She's too ambiguous and I'm too curious. I have to look down on her(like a lot of people) because the height difference is that wide. In the blur of colours I somehow make out that she has some kind of dark eyes - good initiative from me. Rewind - actually, scratch that, it's probably because she's staring at me so wide eyed. Pause - I will admit, she isn't all that bad to look at, unlike most people I've encountered. Fellow chem takers (the reflection of my future) are in all sorts of decay: missing teeth, eyes glazed over, dry lips, splotchy and yellowed faces.

It's my turn soon.

Restart - She's a nice change from the usual.

She shouts something inaudible - I was too busy staring back in her eyes to actually catch it or try to read her lips. I feel something warm and sweaty touch my skin. Pause - I look down and see it's her hand and I inhale. Why would she do that? What's she planning to do? Paranoia will be the death of me. Too many unanswerable questions; I can't just go with the flow any more because you can never be too careful around these people. I've lost count of the amount of times someone's threatened to cut my throat over a gambling table.

Restart - I exhale as she squeeze and tugs me arm, bringing the rest of my with it. I'm hesitant but my legs move on their own, curiosity (like many cases) being my boat through the maze of sweaty bodies and blurring colours. My vision doesn't give attention to my sides save for my peripherals; everything's focused on the back of her head. I'm watching her, analysing her, waiting for her to do something. They think I don't notice but when I need to be I can be observant. She keeps rubbing the back of her neck, as if something there keeps bothering her.

Pause - Where are we now? The centre of it all, the middle of the moving bodies and blurring colours. I could almost mistake myself for being higher than a damn kite, the colours are confusing after all. Fuck, they take my attention off her and she's gone. My neck twists and turns and in about three seconds she's reappeared right in front of me. A stand out from the crowd, a gem in the sea that catches my eye instantly despite the fact she's moving with the flow like she was born to it.

I wasn't.

Rewind - I don't know how to move. It's all too foreign to me; I never was a dancer and I never will be. It's not me, it's not how I am. I can't just go with the flow of anything even the flow and beat of music - the very few times I hear it anyway. Come to think of it I don't think any of us Fer's dance, or maybe we do but I'm too high to notice but even if I wasn't I doubt I'd care all that much. I only care about one thing these days.

Restart - I have to adapt to the situation but I've never been all that good at that. Still, at least I try but I must stick out like a sore thumb. Despite it being so sporadic everyone moves like they were shaped here; they're so automatic, every movement flows into the next -the opposite of me at this point- but fuck it I'm trying. Movements are jagged and awkward, every joint as stiff as the joints on Lucrezia's dolls.

Fuck, this feels awkward.

Pause - I stop and the awkwardness stops and it seems neck girl has stopped as well. I think she said something, I don't even know - moving to the centre made the music louder. She's smiling though, probably amused at my dancing fail I quickly conclude. Still, she's smiling so that means I've accomplished something; the wrong thing. I push the thought of my mind and snap myself back to the point of paying attention. She opens her mouth to speak I lean in to hear her better so I won't get caught off guard.

Restart - The warm, moist feeling that was in my wrist just a moment ago is felt on my check and I almost recoil. "What-"

She moves forwards in one fluid movement and touches her lips against mine.

-are you doing?

An unfinished sentence, an unfinished job - honestly what's the difference?

Pause - She's actually kissing me, her lips feel quite dry and hard; kinda like sandpaper if I'm completely honest. I don't know, can you even have a good sandpaper? Either way, neck girl kissing me isn't exactly a bag thing.

Restart - I pull back from our lip battle because air is needed. A wide grin is on my face. "What's your name?!" I shout this time, not letting the raucous environment take me off guard.

Fuck it. I don't think I can be bothered to hear her answer.

"I'm Ree!" Although, she will hear mine.

Rewind - I want to feel it again. A strange lust rolls through my veins and I instinctively dive back in and press my lips against hers, using my two hands to hold her face still so our lips are locked again.

Stop - Just right.

Last Edit: Apr 6, 2016 14:25:15 GMT -5 by kousei ♚

Onyx
Capitol Resident

1,169 POSTS

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in between somewhere and nowhere

Reaching {New heights} [Onyx] Jun 30, 2016 3:15:53 GMT -5

Post by Onyx on Jun 30, 2016 3:15:53 GMT -5

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he stumbled into faith

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and thought "god, is this all there is?"

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he kiss tastes like bad dreams, broken bottles and razorblades, but those morbidities are something I have come to love - and lust for. His hands are the knot of a noose at the back of my neck, my coarse hair providing the only veil-thin protection between them and the patch, which has responded to my increased blood flow and heart-rate by sending another flood of euphoria into my brain. My lips feel warm and large as caterpillars as they press against his, and I deeply breathe the smell and taste of him in. It sits on my tongue, which knots with his, and suddenly my hallucinatory haze flings me back in time - my lips the epicentre, landing me at the receiving end of another kiss, with another man, one who has those same flavours, like an alleyway buffet, laced in the texture of his mouth.[break][break]

The music around me seems to slow down until it rumbles with the rhythm of a laboured heart. I no longer feel the heat of this cavern, but instead, almost, the chill of a draught tiptoes across my shoulders. Out of the corners of my eyes I can still see the flashing coloured lights, the bodies undulating, tangling with each other like I am tangled with this boy -- except he isn't a boy, not anymore... he's a face I knew well, and wish I didn't. "What's your name?!" he shouts, and I wince at how loud his voice is, coming so close to me. I let my hands form snares in his hair, tugging as I pull him towards me. Tattoos snake up a neck which, logically, I know is bare. This man is two men in one body... and I can't tell which one I'm talking to. "Like I've always said, Scarecrow," I yell back, grinning and hoping the fear I've always felt when he stands this close to me doesn't show, "I won't tell you mine until you tell me yours."
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His cruel eyes frown, like they don't understand, and just for a moment I'm back in the club again, and that gaze isn't cruel, just confused. "I'm Ree!" Ree. I nod, wide eyes glancing around me as I try to regain my groundings in this room. Scarecrow isn't here, and, if I'm lucky, I'll never have to see him again. Ree - Ree-al, Ree-acting, Ree-ight Here In Front Of Me Ree - pulls my face towards him again, and for a moment I see the dark, mean eyes of my ex-lover again, the tattoos writhing on his chest and neck, the sharp chin and grimacing lips, stretching out to capture my own. Instinctively, I bring one hand up and claw my nails, ready to strike him if he hurts me again - 'why have you done this to me?' I hear my own tearful voice in my memory, interrupted periodically as it was by the mouthfuls of vomit and blood I heaved up again and again - and even though this is Ree, not the Scarecrow, my hand is shaking, desperate to scratch downwards and protect myself, and I know I will if something doesn't stop me soon...
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Suddenly, I am sure the world is ending. I don't hear the explosion with my ears so much as with my bones, which begin to shake with the sheer shockwave of the blast like the beams of a building in an earthquake. I grip onto Ree, my nails digging into his jacket rather than his flesh, and I feel my eyes widen like a rabbit's as I stare at him. Behind his head, the concrete wall blooms in flashes of light. Sobriety begins to sink back over me until I have the logical urge to snap my head around and find the source of the light and sound. There - in the doorway - Peacekeepers pile into the space almost on top of each other like shining termites, the torches on the ends of their assault guns leaving lines in my vision as their beams shiver and dart around the space. The music cuts out abruptly, and as my ears stop ringing from the sudden silence, the noise of partygoers screaming begins to swell in its place. Bodies crush together to get away from the Law Enforcers, pushing Ree and me back against the wall like a rip-current.
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"It's a raid!" I scream, desperate to be heard now although I'm sure Ree already understands what's happening. A bottleneck has started to form at the door closest to us, slowing down the escape - and the Peacekeepers are closing in. Ree's eyes are fixed on the crowds, and for a moment I too watch them, shoving and clawing at each other as they try to get out and free. Many of the people here are average citizens, not known rebels like I am, who just came for a fun night. Perhaps they don't deserve to be arrested or killed tonight. Perhaps the fact that they don't know another way out, like I do, means that natural selection will take care of them, as it should.
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My hand goes to Ree's chin and I turn his face back to mine. "No time - follow me!" I shriek again, before letting go of him and ducking around the edge of the hoarde of oppressive white-armoured beetles. There - I see what I'm looking for - a series of cables snaking up the wall and out a vent right near the ceiling. I wouldn't have found it if I was still high, I'm sure. Urgently, I turn back to Ree, leaning close to him so I don't need to shout, and so he hears the seriousness in my voice. "Be fast." With that I turn, run, and begin to scramble hand-over-foot up the wires. The rubber toes of my boots are nowhere near as apt as trainers would be for this task, but this isn't the first time I've scaled a wall to escape from certain execution, and my fear and exhilaration drives me up.
[break][break]
I'm almost at the top, my fingers reaching to pry the rusted vent loose so I can heave myself into it - will Ree fit? - when my foot slips and suddenly I am swinging through the air, my hands burning with pain as they hold the weight of my whole body. The pale skin of my flailing legs tragically attracts a Peacekeeper's attention, and I hear the first gunshot go off. It could only be fate that allows the smoke gathered around me to stop his aim being true, and I don't even feel the wind from the bullet's trail as it hits the wall metres to my right. I'm certain my arms are going to tear loose from my body as panic starts to surge through me, just as debilitating as the chemicals that previously clouded my thoughts. However, but some sheer miracle, I finally regain my footing and fluidly project myself up into the ventspace. In here, it's damp and smells of electricity and heat - but it's safe. I know that my time-wasting and foolishness have put Ree in danger, and I send a silent prayer that I'll soon see his eyes shining from the vent entrance. But then again - have I ever really cared about what happens to those around me, especially new acquaintances? Why do I feel like Ree is different? I swallow the lump in my throat and level out my breathing. Whatever protective instinct reaches out from my mind to this boy, all I can do it hope it won't mean the end of me.

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kousei ♚ | 1268 | late by like 100 years lmao

TEMPLATE BY ANNECORDELIA OF ADOXOGRAPHY

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Last Edit: Jun 30, 2016 3:18:21 GMT -5 by Onyx

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid