arx's trash tbh
Jun 14, 2021 19:05:50 GMT -5
Post by brad bradford ★ d5 [arx] on Jun 14, 2021 19:05:50 GMT -5
Everything is so fast.
Too fast, actually.
"Stay down."
He doesn't recognize the voice. Or rather, he doesn't care to. But in the split second between the threat, being shoved ungracefully into a rack of empty plant trays, and colliding awkwardly with a rain barrel, the only logical conclusion he can come to is that- "Grady." -is all the absolute idiot Stella had always claimed he was.
Rage blazes behind his eyes, in his chest, blushing his cheeks and flaring his nostrils as he breathes in slow. He waits, he tries not to grumble as he moves slowly to get to his feet. He's drunk, he didn't do it on purpose, he's just fucking around, why are you so fucking angry?
It's all so fast. It's all at once. And Zeke is feeling slow.
Click.
"What the fuck is your-?" is all he can get out before his heart seizes up and twists itself into a knot so tight that his throat closes along with it. The stars suddenly seem wrong, as if they were nothing more than pinholes in the lid of a jar. The moon makes the scene look as if it were lined with silver. And there was. A silver lining, that is. Zeke could see it turning Grady's shirt red; at least it's not him.
Again.
"This was expensive."
"Grady..."
"You look tacky as fuck."
"Shit, Grady, come on."
He yanks him by the collar because he needs him to heel before the bigger, scarier dog lunges for the both of them. Adrenaline was already making his heart race, blood pumping in his fingertips and down to the tips of his toes, bursting where bones healed and nighttime air met skin. But he doesn't try to bargain, only tries not to trip.
And still he feels so behind.
Maybe this is another nightmare. Maybe he was screaming in his bed right now, tossing aside the covers in a sweaty, pain-ridden daze, pissing Grady off and that was the only reason he was bleeding dark red across a green landscape. Maybe this was just a party and he'd passed out on Elaina's couch. Maybe they'd been telling ghost stories around and around and around again in a lovely little circle of smoke and comraderies only the depressed or depraved would stick around for.
Or maybe he's suffocating again- drowning -and waking up tied to a fucking chair. It seems he can't tell the difference.
"Come on!"
Zeke needed to find his sister. Now.
Too fast, actually.
"Stay down."
He doesn't recognize the voice. Or rather, he doesn't care to. But in the split second between the threat, being shoved ungracefully into a rack of empty plant trays, and colliding awkwardly with a rain barrel, the only logical conclusion he can come to is that- "Grady." -is all the absolute idiot Stella had always claimed he was.
Rage blazes behind his eyes, in his chest, blushing his cheeks and flaring his nostrils as he breathes in slow. He waits, he tries not to grumble as he moves slowly to get to his feet. He's drunk, he didn't do it on purpose, he's just fucking around, why are you so fucking angry?
It's all so fast. It's all at once. And Zeke is feeling slow.
Click.
"What the fuck is your-?" is all he can get out before his heart seizes up and twists itself into a knot so tight that his throat closes along with it. The stars suddenly seem wrong, as if they were nothing more than pinholes in the lid of a jar. The moon makes the scene look as if it were lined with silver. And there was. A silver lining, that is. Zeke could see it turning Grady's shirt red; at least it's not him.
Again.
"This was expensive."
"Grady..."
"You look tacky as fuck."
"Shit, Grady, come on."
He yanks him by the collar because he needs him to heel before the bigger, scarier dog lunges for the both of them. Adrenaline was already making his heart race, blood pumping in his fingertips and down to the tips of his toes, bursting where bones healed and nighttime air met skin. But he doesn't try to bargain, only tries not to trip.
And still he feels so behind.
Maybe this is another nightmare. Maybe he was screaming in his bed right now, tossing aside the covers in a sweaty, pain-ridden daze, pissing Grady off and that was the only reason he was bleeding dark red across a green landscape. Maybe this was just a party and he'd passed out on Elaina's couch. Maybe they'd been telling ghost stories around and around and around again in a lovely little circle of smoke and comraderies only the depressed or depraved would stick around for.
Or maybe he's suffocating again- drowning -and waking up tied to a fucking chair. It seems he can't tell the difference.
"Come on!"
Zeke needed to find his sister. Now.