Post by Catcher Reeves on Aug 23, 2021 5:44:04 GMT -5
He gathered all the bits and pieces about her new life and new residence to form pictures he couldn’t relate. Her judgment was responsible and her statements were ones he would remember to find updates for. There would come a day she would run free into the woods and he knew this because the haunting magnetism of the wild was impossible to resist to free spirits like hers; the wolf was a great symbol in testament to her noblest traits. In a few years she would have her own place but he couldn’t imagine her staying in this town so he brushed it off with a passing reminder. By then, who knew if he would ever see all that she called hers. ”I can think of someone who’d really enjoy decorating for you.” It was Feather and her artistic inclinations; they would construct something special and after the tattoo Natasha had received, he secured she recollected the same.
”I can’t believe you even have a diary. How very retro of you…” His expression repeated hers but his brows raised in sync, uninterested to know what she did jot down; ascertaining there would be some jaded qualities in the writing to make him go through the motions, names and feelings he didn't want to know. Besides, there were no little hearts with his name in them. ”What’s wrong with doodling my name? Actually, I would’ve drawn them in for you but fine, be square.” Putting on the most begging look, he feigned offense with a big open mouth as he spoke, a single chuckle ending his noncommittal protest.
”I went to a refined Art school. People were all kinds, no real rules, flexible schedules and I didn’t live in a dorm for very long before moving out.” He had shifted his elbow to support his head with his palm as he glanced at her, flashbacks of everyone smoking, openly drugged up and wearing anything they wanted, trickling in and out of the buildings made him realize she had no idea what that would be like. ”I will add... modern art is a performance, teachers just want to hear you explain something deep about everything. They don’t actually teach you anything; you just have to be able to ‘do’ what you already did to get in…” The last part, it came out obvious that he had no idea what half of that usually entailed; the portfolio was judged for entry but the whole world kept saying art was subjective so it made no sense other than technical skill and he felt like lady luck had been on his side in the form of a brush.
”I guess I never told you… “ A pained wincing, he had practically fake smiled before flopping over quickly then bouncing up. ”I’m going to a cadet academy, so I’m supposed to have majors and minor courses that apply to politics, sciences and a few broad spectrum things. These aren’t as important as discipline and self-control so… “ His mouth pressed into a hard pout before pursing into a frowning line as he squashed himself into a semi-permanent shrug; he didn’t have to even mention the physical portion of the strict daily routine to know he was going to be exhausted all around. Then there were the constant punishments and terrible drills she might find bizarrely productive in shaping a man.”Not normal.”
Lost in that defeating resentment, his attitude toward his predicament began to change as her descriptions of frat parties and the consequences of idiotic youth behaviour brought him to a negative conclusion. The dangers that shouldn’t exist made him lose faith in humanity. ”Just be careful then. Drink things with a seal.” If anything happened she knew what to do even if they had very opposite definitions of what people deserved; this was not something he really had to worry about but now he was looking at it with paranoia that he knew what guys were thinking the instant they saw her, disturbed and protective. ”It seems she can get you out of your funk. Evan better do his job.”
He felt her give his forehead a peck and lifted his head as she moved away, kidding with her as though serious. ”That’s what you say but you could very well be at one of those parties or somewhere else.” She would have total comfort that he was locked up in barracks with unbreakable curfew and severe repercussions for rebellious antics. Almost everything was off limits; he would be in an angry convent while she let Daniella introduce her to every Tom, Dick and Harry. Life wanted to swap their opportunities and he nearly rolled his eyes before her getting off the bed had him disregard everything.
Fluttering in his chest, his breathing grew shallow and his heart flooded with emotions until it came to a standstill, the beats fading out as his hand reached to accept the frame. He didn’t expect anything when she stood up to pull out a bag from beneath the bed; he never thought he would be where he was. Catcher was staring at her as he took it, and then reviewing the photograph rolled all the memories back. Clutching it with more force than the gentleness he had received it with, he held onto it fondly but turned it over as he placed it aside. She had a way of moving him, a type of signature all her own that touched his soul. It was her on the prom night he crashed, the day they began again and shared the dances that would last a lifetime. Her face flashed before his eyes as he had twirled the tiara before giving it to her as the music played, in that moment he hadn’t felt more alive bringing her a smile with the stolen trinket.
”I’ll keep it by my bedside too.” It referenced her frame of him and he intended to keep the promise even if every single person who entered his room will question it. That almost came across like another tease but he needed to word it instead of knowing she understood him enough that it was immediately what he would do without telling her. Something he did too often;Sometimes he was aware his lack of small talk ability drove her to pent up all her wonderment. He could only hold sincere conversations with specific questions, as would be in an interview or when he was unguarded.
”It’s…” Smiling meekly as his head bobbled with his awkward speaking pace, revelations showed with his voice. All the breaks in between, articulated physically with his face forming a range of emotions normally void; poured out to her in a muddle. ”Perfect.” His heart was holding on so tight to her, more than a shoulder to turn to, it was gripping for dear life and he couldn’t ignore it, almost certain that he was hers. ”Thanks…”
Caught in the thought that everything was fine, his eyes emptied of the blindness he had of the ecstatic reaction she probably hoped from him. Looking back at her as she threw on the shirt he was told she couldn’t find, he confirmed his understanding that they were the same way, slowly beaming a wide grin in a dazed but pleased expression as she clambered back on the mattress, comfortably undressed. Out of reflex, he shifted as she laid her head in his lap and coiled up alongside him in the messed blanket. He leaned over and tugged at the shirt from the collar with a finger to rat her out for keeping it; it was hers now. She looked better in it too. Plucking a golden string of her hair aside from her brow, his tenderly amused face shed with smoldering surprise.
Unsure if he appeared choked up, he skimmed upward into nothingness, dashing his sight from admiring her features, numbing with inactivity as the seconds to a clock ticked by. ”Tash…” He returned to look at her with restraint, distracting his vision with each pretty part of her partially illuminated face, unable to hold a direct gaze in her hazel eyes. He chose to say her name, evoke how definitive it was. His words were a reflection of hers, distorted without as much of the friendliness hers had delivered him yet still more amicable than he truly wanted it to sound. ”I love you too…” Meeting her doll eyes with familiarity as they reflected brightly grey and darkly brown in the yellow night light, he suddenly established how lucid in their dream like state the love really was. It was all in how she had told him that affected how he said it. He wanted to tell her when she was ready for it, when it would have been welcomed with her whole heart but the words met hers in this broken place.
Her love was another kind. Lesser than the kind he wanted more of, never meant to be. They could have been made for each other but before the euphoria of her words swept over and washed him away, a cold shower rinsed through skin, dividing his elated reception in two. She said it first and she said it at long last but if she truly knew how it weighed as she said it, she knew they weren’t soul mates and now he did too. Much to his consternation, this was not the way she had been with someone else before him; she would never die and live again over him. This was not the truest love... and he was gravely conflicted that it was incomplete. His mind was buffering as he hunched to kiss her cheek, staying inches away to see her long, silken eyelashes and mitigating the ecstasy in misery that many of the same things he hurt over could be said about his love for her; nothing lasted forever until forever.
It was no longer about journeying with any what ifs in the love game; they didn’t bind eternally even when it felt right, and he watched the words escape the lips of an angel, rendered meaningless. Internally he wept, seemingly determined to keep it all to himself that they could say those three words however way they wanted, however many times and it would never imprint them forever; they would crumble and it would break uneven. All positivity that this was actually a safer outcome for them to remain together felt only like settling. He had made room for her in a place where tears could freely flow and he considered this was not the love he had asked if she wanted to feel, that she had thought she had for him. Like a heretic, this was his loneliness readying him to meet his maker. They had gone too far and he wanted to just lose it all. She had never needed his love so what had they done; why had he let himself need her love. This may as well be the first and last time they ever uttered it, no wise words could stop the bleeding. [/i]
As he kissed her other cheek, a corner of his mouth curled and he pretended to bite her like a vampire, tracing her neck with all the nibbles she liked to nip him with, his hands simultaneously attacking her but landing softly around her, avoiding the inconsistency of his affections. He drew back from leaving her gifts of pale love bites in bids of playfulness, staying her in his arms with a grip that transferred how much he actually needed her to hold onto him. But all he did was eye her roguishly, fighting everything instead of flying, unsteady. He was with his demons all the time, not needing to face them; he saw their world just fine now, not wanting to solve the problem anymore. He could be someone like her, someone who was real, someone who didn't need to feel... He was making sense of what remained with his time and her freedom, moving her close so their faces touched as he shut his eyes, eventually sliding back against a pillow, bringing her with him so she would rest on his stifled chest; relying on the warm embrace to recover.
”I can’t believe you even have a diary. How very retro of you…” His expression repeated hers but his brows raised in sync, uninterested to know what she did jot down; ascertaining there would be some jaded qualities in the writing to make him go through the motions, names and feelings he didn't want to know. Besides, there were no little hearts with his name in them. ”What’s wrong with doodling my name? Actually, I would’ve drawn them in for you but fine, be square.” Putting on the most begging look, he feigned offense with a big open mouth as he spoke, a single chuckle ending his noncommittal protest.
”I went to a refined Art school. People were all kinds, no real rules, flexible schedules and I didn’t live in a dorm for very long before moving out.” He had shifted his elbow to support his head with his palm as he glanced at her, flashbacks of everyone smoking, openly drugged up and wearing anything they wanted, trickling in and out of the buildings made him realize she had no idea what that would be like. ”I will add... modern art is a performance, teachers just want to hear you explain something deep about everything. They don’t actually teach you anything; you just have to be able to ‘do’ what you already did to get in…” The last part, it came out obvious that he had no idea what half of that usually entailed; the portfolio was judged for entry but the whole world kept saying art was subjective so it made no sense other than technical skill and he felt like lady luck had been on his side in the form of a brush.
”I guess I never told you… “ A pained wincing, he had practically fake smiled before flopping over quickly then bouncing up. ”I’m going to a cadet academy, so I’m supposed to have majors and minor courses that apply to politics, sciences and a few broad spectrum things. These aren’t as important as discipline and self-control so… “ His mouth pressed into a hard pout before pursing into a frowning line as he squashed himself into a semi-permanent shrug; he didn’t have to even mention the physical portion of the strict daily routine to know he was going to be exhausted all around. Then there were the constant punishments and terrible drills she might find bizarrely productive in shaping a man.”Not normal.”
Lost in that defeating resentment, his attitude toward his predicament began to change as her descriptions of frat parties and the consequences of idiotic youth behaviour brought him to a negative conclusion. The dangers that shouldn’t exist made him lose faith in humanity. ”Just be careful then. Drink things with a seal.” If anything happened she knew what to do even if they had very opposite definitions of what people deserved; this was not something he really had to worry about but now he was looking at it with paranoia that he knew what guys were thinking the instant they saw her, disturbed and protective. ”It seems she can get you out of your funk. Evan better do his job.”
He felt her give his forehead a peck and lifted his head as she moved away, kidding with her as though serious. ”That’s what you say but you could very well be at one of those parties or somewhere else.” She would have total comfort that he was locked up in barracks with unbreakable curfew and severe repercussions for rebellious antics. Almost everything was off limits; he would be in an angry convent while she let Daniella introduce her to every Tom, Dick and Harry. Life wanted to swap their opportunities and he nearly rolled his eyes before her getting off the bed had him disregard everything.
Fluttering in his chest, his breathing grew shallow and his heart flooded with emotions until it came to a standstill, the beats fading out as his hand reached to accept the frame. He didn’t expect anything when she stood up to pull out a bag from beneath the bed; he never thought he would be where he was. Catcher was staring at her as he took it, and then reviewing the photograph rolled all the memories back. Clutching it with more force than the gentleness he had received it with, he held onto it fondly but turned it over as he placed it aside. She had a way of moving him, a type of signature all her own that touched his soul. It was her on the prom night he crashed, the day they began again and shared the dances that would last a lifetime. Her face flashed before his eyes as he had twirled the tiara before giving it to her as the music played, in that moment he hadn’t felt more alive bringing her a smile with the stolen trinket.
”I’ll keep it by my bedside too.” It referenced her frame of him and he intended to keep the promise even if every single person who entered his room will question it. That almost came across like another tease but he needed to word it instead of knowing she understood him enough that it was immediately what he would do without telling her. Something he did too often;Sometimes he was aware his lack of small talk ability drove her to pent up all her wonderment. He could only hold sincere conversations with specific questions, as would be in an interview or when he was unguarded.
”It’s…” Smiling meekly as his head bobbled with his awkward speaking pace, revelations showed with his voice. All the breaks in between, articulated physically with his face forming a range of emotions normally void; poured out to her in a muddle. ”Perfect.” His heart was holding on so tight to her, more than a shoulder to turn to, it was gripping for dear life and he couldn’t ignore it, almost certain that he was hers. ”Thanks…”
Caught in the thought that everything was fine, his eyes emptied of the blindness he had of the ecstatic reaction she probably hoped from him. Looking back at her as she threw on the shirt he was told she couldn’t find, he confirmed his understanding that they were the same way, slowly beaming a wide grin in a dazed but pleased expression as she clambered back on the mattress, comfortably undressed. Out of reflex, he shifted as she laid her head in his lap and coiled up alongside him in the messed blanket. He leaned over and tugged at the shirt from the collar with a finger to rat her out for keeping it; it was hers now. She looked better in it too. Plucking a golden string of her hair aside from her brow, his tenderly amused face shed with smoldering surprise.
Unsure if he appeared choked up, he skimmed upward into nothingness, dashing his sight from admiring her features, numbing with inactivity as the seconds to a clock ticked by. ”Tash…” He returned to look at her with restraint, distracting his vision with each pretty part of her partially illuminated face, unable to hold a direct gaze in her hazel eyes. He chose to say her name, evoke how definitive it was. His words were a reflection of hers, distorted without as much of the friendliness hers had delivered him yet still more amicable than he truly wanted it to sound. ”I love you too…” Meeting her doll eyes with familiarity as they reflected brightly grey and darkly brown in the yellow night light, he suddenly established how lucid in their dream like state the love really was. It was all in how she had told him that affected how he said it. He wanted to tell her when she was ready for it, when it would have been welcomed with her whole heart but the words met hers in this broken place.
Her love was another kind. Lesser than the kind he wanted more of, never meant to be. They could have been made for each other but before the euphoria of her words swept over and washed him away, a cold shower rinsed through skin, dividing his elated reception in two. She said it first and she said it at long last but if she truly knew how it weighed as she said it, she knew they weren’t soul mates and now he did too. Much to his consternation, this was not the way she had been with someone else before him; she would never die and live again over him. This was not the truest love... and he was gravely conflicted that it was incomplete. His mind was buffering as he hunched to kiss her cheek, staying inches away to see her long, silken eyelashes and mitigating the ecstasy in misery that many of the same things he hurt over could be said about his love for her; nothing lasted forever until forever.
It was no longer about journeying with any what ifs in the love game; they didn’t bind eternally even when it felt right, and he watched the words escape the lips of an angel, rendered meaningless. Internally he wept, seemingly determined to keep it all to himself that they could say those three words however way they wanted, however many times and it would never imprint them forever; they would crumble and it would break uneven. All positivity that this was actually a safer outcome for them to remain together felt only like settling. He had made room for her in a place where tears could freely flow and he considered this was not the love he had asked if she wanted to feel, that she had thought she had for him. Like a heretic, this was his loneliness readying him to meet his maker. They had gone too far and he wanted to just lose it all. She had never needed his love so what had they done; why had he let himself need her love. This may as well be the first and last time they ever uttered it, no wise words could stop the bleeding. [/i]
As he kissed her other cheek, a corner of his mouth curled and he pretended to bite her like a vampire, tracing her neck with all the nibbles she liked to nip him with, his hands simultaneously attacking her but landing softly around her, avoiding the inconsistency of his affections. He drew back from leaving her gifts of pale love bites in bids of playfulness, staying her in his arms with a grip that transferred how much he actually needed her to hold onto him. But all he did was eye her roguishly, fighting everything instead of flying, unsteady. He was with his demons all the time, not needing to face them; he saw their world just fine now, not wanting to solve the problem anymore. He could be someone like her, someone who was real, someone who didn't need to feel... He was making sense of what remained with his time and her freedom, moving her close so their faces touched as he shut his eyes, eventually sliding back against a pillow, bringing her with him so she would rest on his stifled chest; relying on the warm embrace to recover.