our neverland } ana&nate { blitz
Jan 11, 2017 22:09:08 GMT -5
Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Jan 11, 2017 22:09:08 GMT -5
The entirety of him is gold — from the arch of his fingers, to the bend of his back. His body is a structure meant to be worshipped with hands stained in righteous blood: the kind of cathedral that calls to the lowest sinners, promising salvation, but instead only allowing the highest of the holy inside.
( That night, under the stars you used to count with him in your youth — an endless number you never quite got the chance to reach — you realize something: he’s never let you inside. )
And, truly, that’s for the best — because you don’t want in, and you never want him to see you as something good enough for him. You’ve watched him grow for years now in the remnants of the places that you once found solace in. Your childhood lover has gone from lost boy to man, and at times it hurts. Watching him look for you in the lips of others is a dagger in your throat, but choking on blood can still be selfish. There are nights that you give in to men with dark hair and dark eyes, and under the mask of your shadows they almost match the shape of him — they almost fill the place that he’s carved into your being, but they never live up to him. He’s ruined you in the best way.
( You wonder if those midnight women fill the places that you've left in him, and you believe it likely. )
And you think, with a sigh, that’s also for the best.
You knock on a door that doesn't lead to home, and you know that you're not welcome here — but religious women break their knees to praise their god, so bruised ones press up against the wood as you lean forward. "Nate?" you call out, voice cracking — and part of you hopes that he's away; hopes that he's dancing with someone who looks just like you. You wonder if she treats him right — is he warm? Is he safe?
You exhale.
( You need answers, so you hope that he finds you.
The two of you have always been Peter & Wendy;
— you should know how this ends. )
