// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //
She's trying to break him, he knows it. He knew it the moment that first 'brow kicked up, far too eager in its rise, nevermind the way devilry shapes itself against her mouth. He tries to hold firm, it's why he meets her stare word for word, as if proving he is impervious because he means it. Nothing, nada, zilch. He doesn't need it, doesn't want it, he's happy.
Each item she lists off though is like a new bullet wound, and the strike of them against his heart tilts him further and further back into his demise. He shakes his head back and forth with each round, a nope that becomes harder to accomplish the more she peppers him apart. Gummy worms, BANG! Icecream, pew pew, sundae, blam blam, b a r, boom! He's like a horror villain though, still standing, even if his lips have pressed in on each other in quiet reconsideration, gaze flashing with the physical effort to restrain himself from snapping beneath her ploy.
He can't though, he's just a man after all—when she says limited edition hoodie, his eyes widen. "Oh?" he attempts to feign indifference, a finger casually tracing through the mud between them. "SHUT UP!?" he gasps, fingers spreading across the mud as he leans towards her, gagged. "You do not have the Tragic Star-Crossed Lovers Sweatshirt????" It's a question and a wild accusation all at once. "You can't throw that away, that's like, a crime!" His voice curls in pitch with the outrage of the mere idea.
He surges and crawls over the distance to her, flinging the top of his body back over hers, his arm fitting around her side and behind her. "Do I need to take you to the jail???"
Each item she lists off though is like a new bullet wound, and the strike of them against his heart tilts him further and further back into his demise. He shakes his head back and forth with each round, a nope that becomes harder to accomplish the more she peppers him apart. Gummy worms, BANG! Icecream, pew pew, sundae, blam blam, b a r, boom! He's like a horror villain though, still standing, even if his lips have pressed in on each other in quiet reconsideration, gaze flashing with the physical effort to restrain himself from snapping beneath her ploy.
He can't though, he's just a man after all—when she says limited edition hoodie, his eyes widen. "Oh?" he attempts to feign indifference, a finger casually tracing through the mud between them. "SHUT UP!?" he gasps, fingers spreading across the mud as he leans towards her, gagged. "You do not have the Tragic Star-Crossed Lovers Sweatshirt????" It's a question and a wild accusation all at once. "You can't throw that away, that's like, a crime!" His voice curls in pitch with the outrage of the mere idea.
He surges and crawls over the distance to her, flinging the top of his body back over hers, his arm fitting around her side and behind her. "Do I need to take you to the jail???"
Kaisel
// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
