.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
06-25-2017, 02:34 AM
He had her.
They shared this moment, this rain, this stare. Together, they had nothing but each other, as I slunk away to the sidelines, not staring directly (and not needing to, for I held a far more intimate standpoint than I cared to hold at this point).
As the rain worked on his body, soothing his aches and making him feel much more Kiro than before (though not changing his outward appearance at all), I felt his inner turmoil settle into something more slow-moving, something more manageable. I felt him become genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.
Ah, but then he spoke. If only he had ceased his attempts at playful conversation at the first statement, the compliment. But no, he had to keep going, to forget what he was and speak as if a charming, debonair youth spoke, to smile a smile that should have been worn on a handsome young façade that instead came across as a leering peeping tom, a paedophilic old man, an ogling pervert.
You idiot, I said as I made to escape the hail that followed, not blaming the mare in the slightest for the offense she felt. My words were nothing compared to the torment his own thoughts were putting him through, and I let him carry on for a while: he deserved it, at this point.
- fuck, I had forgotten - I am a douchebag - she made me forget - how could I forget - this hail fucking hurts - she's walking away -
Shut up, I intervene at last, as the mare turns on her heel after delivering a single-worded insult which at this point, I didn't disagree with. Apologise to her, I urge, as the rain and hail ceased abruptly, as the distance grew between them.
Shit, I heard him think, before he urged himself into following her, though several strides behind. I followed too, though I was further away still, unwilling to get caught up in the crossfire of this most intriguing interaction.
"I - I'm sorry -" his words were rough, unpractised again, coming out in huffs and puffs as his body struggling to follow and speak at the same time. Fucking curse, he muttered to me, and cursed under his breath. "I've never - I haven't spoken to anyone - never like that - I'm sorry," he kept going pleading, hopeful still, but he would back away if she scorned him again, if only because the curse forced him to come to a standstill, forced him to bow his head and catch his breath, while his sides heaved.
And upon his face, tears trickled down from his lavender eyes.
They shared this moment, this rain, this stare. Together, they had nothing but each other, as I slunk away to the sidelines, not staring directly (and not needing to, for I held a far more intimate standpoint than I cared to hold at this point).
As the rain worked on his body, soothing his aches and making him feel much more Kiro than before (though not changing his outward appearance at all), I felt his inner turmoil settle into something more slow-moving, something more manageable. I felt him become genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.
Ah, but then he spoke. If only he had ceased his attempts at playful conversation at the first statement, the compliment. But no, he had to keep going, to forget what he was and speak as if a charming, debonair youth spoke, to smile a smile that should have been worn on a handsome young façade that instead came across as a leering peeping tom, a paedophilic old man, an ogling pervert.
You idiot, I said as I made to escape the hail that followed, not blaming the mare in the slightest for the offense she felt. My words were nothing compared to the torment his own thoughts were putting him through, and I let him carry on for a while: he deserved it, at this point.
- fuck, I had forgotten - I am a douchebag - she made me forget - how could I forget - this hail fucking hurts - she's walking away -
Shut up, I intervene at last, as the mare turns on her heel after delivering a single-worded insult which at this point, I didn't disagree with. Apologise to her, I urge, as the rain and hail ceased abruptly, as the distance grew between them.
Shit, I heard him think, before he urged himself into following her, though several strides behind. I followed too, though I was further away still, unwilling to get caught up in the crossfire of this most intriguing interaction.
"I - I'm sorry -" his words were rough, unpractised again, coming out in huffs and puffs as his body struggling to follow and speak at the same time. Fucking curse, he muttered to me, and cursed under his breath. "I've never - I haven't spoken to anyone - never like that - I'm sorry," he kept going pleading, hopeful still, but he would back away if she scorned him again, if only because the curse forced him to come to a standstill, forced him to bow his head and catch his breath, while his sides heaved.
And upon his face, tears trickled down from his lavender eyes.
Kirottu
the cursed one
floweringfatality | whimzi
on deviantart
