on fire; [justice/asher blitz]

   

asher

   

   

asher

   

The ashes of her mistakes have long since settled and in the rubble lays a shattered family trying to pretend it's whole. There's not a ring on her finger anymore, but she can't help the way she plays with the place it used to rest when she's nervous. Poppy Clarke does not regret telling Ellie the truth - he was a good man who deserved much better than the woman she was - but it still stings to see well deserved hatred burning in his gaze as they whisper synthetic love for the sake of their son. Time heals all wounds, she tells herself because she doesn't know how else to help him.

Working more hours is a wonderful distraction. The scents of diner grease and burnt mystery meat may cling to her like perfume but it's nice to lose her humanity for a good twelve hours. She's not a human in uniform, she's a pathetic thing the wealthy and wonderful can use to make themselves feel superior. It kills her a little every day to swallow her pride and let them look at her down the bridge of their noses but she cannot say she doesn't deserve it. Poppy made her bed, it's her own fault she lined it with such shame.

What was it like to be young and in love all those years ago? Was it really worth this?

She can't bring herself to remember.

No one knows Asher Clarke better than his sister, his moving in with them only promised more problems. Maybe too many for her to handle. Even if that were true, she'd never have turned him away. He was angry and pig-headed and stubborn and a better man at sixteen than Poppy could have hoped. His head is full of hot air and pride, too much like her's, but he is also brave. Brave enough that their father presses purple kisses into his paper skin and he smiles at the pain.

Poppy is not brave. She's so fucking scared for him.

When Cedric let slip he'd been skipping school, she wanted to cry.

It's been a long time since she let herself do something so vulnerable. She's kept herself together with frayed string and a stiff upper lip; skin gone translucent as it clings to sinking cheeks all while pretending to thrive. Asher's anger should have fallen on her shoulders but he'd rather curse a man she's had nothing to do with for months than admit his sister's imperfections.

She wrings her hands, shifting from foot to foot outside Justice Fray's mansion. Afternoon winds batter against bare shoulders - she'd left the house in such a hurry she'd forgotten to grab her coat. Poppy knocks, loud and frantic, all while reminding herself she's about to face a stranger.

Justice had made that obvious when he decided to write their ending.

"Poppy." He's smiling; she's not, arms wrapped around herself as though to keep her safe from the complicated emotions suddenly swelling inside her fluttering breaths. Even after all this time, her heart still fucking stops.

"You look... well, Fray." One lie of many and an old term of endearment. It had slipped out without her realizing.

At least it gives her the strength to stand a little taller. "I'm looking for my little brother, I've got good reason to believe he's been coming here instead of school." When she meets his eyes, she does her best to keep them cold. "I wouldn't come unless I was desperate, I promise."

   

asher