// and it's alright, that's the way i like it —
If he understood the reasoning, he might harbor more understanding to the distinct shift of everything. But it feels like he’s losing her as much as he’s losing elsewhere – even if it didn’t seem like it between his nonchalance. Shit’s been lonely, lately, and coming out here to the ranch and going on little adventures with Colt have been the high points of his seasons as of late, and Thorn finds himself standing there in the middle of her destruction – a bystander, watching with wide eyes and a touch of anger he doesn’t know where to place it when she looks over as sees him.
Her gasp, the explanation, all of things that she’d meant to do but hadn’t. The only grace he has right now is that she truly does look distraught at the fact she had done none of the things she’s meant to. “I didn’t know where the fuck y’went.” He admits, taking a step back from the kitchen and all the pieces that are strewn about, objects that had one been pristine and perfect, a part of her home and a part of her life now adrift on the floor and broken up, splintering out like a masochistic spiderweb. “An’ I couldn’t write to ya ‘cause I didn’t know where to send it. An’ then I saw you at the fuckin’ desert thing. What’s happening??” There’s urgency in his voice, a touch of his frustration and panic that settles in his gut as he decides after a second to storm over the mess and destruction to get closer to her, his brows pinched and his seafoam gaze doing a shitty job at hiding the hurt and simultaneous worry that’s encased in them.
Her gasp, the explanation, all of things that she’d meant to do but hadn’t. The only grace he has right now is that she truly does look distraught at the fact she had done none of the things she’s meant to. “I didn’t know where the fuck y’went.” He admits, taking a step back from the kitchen and all the pieces that are strewn about, objects that had one been pristine and perfect, a part of her home and a part of her life now adrift on the floor and broken up, splintering out like a masochistic spiderweb. “An’ I couldn’t write to ya ‘cause I didn’t know where to send it. An’ then I saw you at the fuckin’ desert thing. What’s happening??” There’s urgency in his voice, a touch of his frustration and panic that settles in his gut as he decides after a second to storm over the mess and destruction to get closer to her, his brows pinched and his seafoam gaze doing a shitty job at hiding the hurt and simultaneous worry that’s encased in them.
thorn
— getting crucified,
every time you cross my mind //
every time you cross my mind //
