Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

my childhood (it does not matter now)

i don’t like winter because it is too cold
the snow is so white it hurts my eyes and i think the snowman in
my yard looks creepy why does he have rocks as eyes
honestly winter clothes make me look fat
i never understood why people liked this season
christmas is for happy families and just an excuse
to eat pudding while getting presents for relatives you hate (probably)
and pretending that santa was the one who left them
under a pine tree with a glowing star you got from the dollar store
i’ve never done that and i don’t want to
i’d rather have easter instead

i don’t like spring because it is too colourful
why do the flowers all bloom at the same time
the pollen makes me sneeze and my
skin itches from all the fur and grass and bees in the air
i never understood why people liked this season
easter is for children and just an excuse
to run around in the fields while blowing dandelions and
hunting for chocolate eggs that were hidden in plain sight
yet the adults still congratulate their kids as they proudly hold up
their treasure like they’ve achieved some incredible feat
i’ve never done that and i don’t want to
i’d rather have summer break instead

i don’t like summer because it is too humid
the beach is no longer fun and the sand burns my feet
my sunscreen is sticky and i have to tie up my hair
or it would get all limp from my sweat
i never understood why people liked this season
independence day is for patriotic bastards and just an excuse
to go to a barbeque and eat until you’re stuffed
while watching some marching band walk by your neighbourhood
there’s bound to be some kid dressed up as captain america
because he thinks july fourth is steve’s birthday in the comics (is it?)
i’ve never done that and i don’t want to
i’d rather have halloween instead

i don’t like fall because it is too foggy
orange is a horrible colour in my opinion and i can barely see
the road in front of me so i tend to step on some
overripe fruit that fell from the tree and my shoes would be ruined
i never understood why people liked this season
halloween is for weird nerds and just an excuse
to dress up as edgy characters that are really not that scary and
knock on random doors even though mother said
not to eat strangers’ candies lest they drug and kidnap you
well maybe this is an exception and you can finally gorge on sweets
i’ve never done that and i don’t want to
i’d rather have christmas instead

Chapter Text

cross the bridge of fate

i’m scared of dying in my sleep
alone and in the depths of my dreams when darkness
creeps in and steals the breath out of my lungs
remove my soul from my veins and leave nothing but
flesh and blood for those who care (does anyone care?)

i’d rather be in a battlefield when death comes
a hero who fought for their country and died protecting
their friends and what they believed was right
but battlefields scare me because they are littered with bodies
whose faces are unrecognisable but also familiar
maybe somewhere else would be better

i’d rather be in space when death comes
floating mindlessly through nothingness and far away
from the complications of traditions
but space scares me because the silence is oppressing
not even white noise can be heard and insanity prevails
maybe somewhere else would be better

i’d rather be by the sea when death comes
where the sun is the brightest and the sea embraces everything
waves lapping at my feet and pulling me away
but the sea scares me because everyone is there
what if someone sees me and tries to bring me back to shore
maybe somewhere else would be better

Chapter Text

you are my biggest regret (no, you need not run)

he remembers
and he wishes he doesn’t

he remembers how he used to
trace the edges of his tattoos so tenderly
like they were scripture
how he used to kiss between the lines
of ink and say that
he was built from ash and art
how he used to run those nimble fingers
through his hair and let
the strands fall through like a waterfall
how they used to call each other ridiculous nicknames and
smile like they had the world

now he cannot stand the people near him so he
breaks the mirrors instead of looking in them because when he does
he thinks there is something terrible on his face
for his eyes shone too bright, as if the soul itself was burning
for his mouth still formed the syllables of his name: full of everything they’ve lost and can’t have
for his ears still listen out for footsteps that aren’t there, not anymore
for his heart was twisted into something unfamiliar: close to heartbreak
and desperation but also not quite yet; grief would be more
precise, encompassing the barrage of feelings into
too simple a word

but that is just how it is sometimes
no matter how hard we try or how much we want it
some stories just aren’t destined to have a happy ending

he is the evidence of a love that burned too bright
of two people who fell for each other too hard
and decided they could survive better without it

Chapter Text

glass prism

when people ask me what my favourite colour is
i don’t know how to respond

red is too loud
it reminds me of warning signs and scraped knees
and the lipstick my aunt wore that left stains on teacups
like she wanted to mark everything as hers

blue is too cold
it makes me think of hospital walls and math exams
and the ocean that looks calm until it isn’t
dragging people under while pretending to be peaceful

green is too smug
it acts like it owns nature just because it’s on leaves
and frogs and traffic lights that tell you to move on
when you don’t even want to go anywhere

yellow is too bright
it blinds me like someone trying too hard to be happy
and reminds me of sticky fingers from melting ice cream
and smiley faces drawn on notes that mean nothing

black is too honest
it doesn’t try to hide like the others do
it swallows everything and still asks if you want more
and maybe that’s why people wear it when they’re sad

white is too empty
it looks like a beginning but feels like an ending
and no matter how much you fill it up it still feels hollow
like snow that melts before you can even make something of it

but i smile anyway and say gray
because grey is neutral and everyone overlooks it
they wouldn't expect my answer so they’d back away
or if they don’t i’d ask them if they spelt it the american or british way
and then ask if they knew the book called the picture of dorian gray

Chapter Text

scenes from a quiet apocalypse (everywhere but here)

take me to the lakes
where all the poets have died
drowned in their prose
and words that they write
those beautiful lines
that sing their demise
and i yearn for the relief
of a soundless night

take me to the mountains
where nobody has gone
too high too far
too dangerous for all
i’d yell and scream
and continue to dream on
the lyrics of my heart
faded into creatures that crawl

take me to the cave
where the dragon was slain
ordered by none other
than the ruler who reigns
let me cradle him dearly
and remember his name
for what did he do
to deserve such pain

take me to the walkway
where heaven and hell parts
and the scenes of death
are depicted like art
i hope that right before
the train departs
they’d have the chance
to confess their hearts

take me to the stars
where names are whispered
and the planets orbit
lone loitering figures
casually cruel
like winds in the winter
that stings the face
tastes almost bitter

take me to the country
where everyone laughs
there are no leaders
and i am enough
no heroes no villains
just people in photographs
whose lives are whole
and not torn in half

take me to the beach
where he had his first kiss
he confessed his sins
fallen into the abyss
if only he were as cold
as he pretends he is
then maybe just maybe
he could get over this

take me to the hospital
where everyone was warned
there was an anomaly
in the room i was born
just a while after sunset
on a blanket that was torn
missed the sun by just a little
something to mourn

Chapter Text

clandestine rendezvous

we’d meet once a week at night in the store that sold records down the street
the receptionist would play billy joel or queen or david bowie in the background
while we stood in the corner with magazines nobody bought
our pinkies would be linked as we pretended to browse the colourful covers
and i’d savour the heat of your skin on mine
perhaps the old grandfather clock behind the counter would chime a little after midnight
too late for yesterday but too early for today

maybe if we’re lucky my mother wouldn’t call and neither would yours
so we’ll have the chance to walk together with no destination in mind
not too close but with our shoulders brushing
you’d steal glances at me and when our eyes met you’d avert your gaze
and pretend not to care but your ears would turn red just so

the road would bring us to the lake in the park where we’d sit on the bench
in winter your scarf would cover your mouth and all i could see would be the smile in your eyes
in summer your cheeks would be red and i’d kiss your freckles
no matter what we’d watch the constellations glitter in the distant galaxy (were we part of it?)
and if there was a shooting star we’d wish for forever though it would never come true

Chapter Text

paradox

love is primal, it takes pleasure in the pain, the agony, the dull throb of a longing heart
that yearns for the contact; it nags at the deepest parts of us, it claws and demands
to be let out, straining against its leash; rears back its ugly head and bares its
fangs, sinks its teeth into their victim, in a way that not only kills, but destroys, demolishes.

love is beautiful, not pretty, but beautiful; sometimes it appears in its entirety which
steals the breath of many; relishes and bathes in the want, the need of the stupid
little humans, toying with their emotions; enraptures and entices and lures those who are
unsuspecting enough to follow, dragging them deeper into this illusion; to certain death.

love is tragic, as seen from many; it ends often with heartbreak, snapping the necks
of its most loyal followers; greedily laps up at their blood which gives it power, which
gives it authority; push them to insanity, and then when they have the urge to
grasp more, more, more— they’d end up right where they’d started, just like a cruel joke.

love is addictive, a drug, an aphrodisiac; it stirs up the most animalistic desires even
in the most disciplined of men; more often than not, provoking those filthy, shameful and
unspeakable emotions that should have remained hidden and buried under all the
swirling, conflicting thoughts in the nerves; mess up the minds of those who succumbed.

love is fragile, delicate even, mimicking that of a crystal orb; it shatters with the slightest
mishandle, the slip of the hand or tongue, the flutter of lashes when the tears finally
fall; breaks into a storm of fragments and splinters that then mold to form a weapon; one
that turns back and stabs, burrows into the heart of its very creator; betrayal at its finest.

love is dangerous, and it lacks a warning label; it sneers, mocks, jeers at those who are naïve
enough to believe in such a theory, and the one who believes in love most is not love but
hate; for hate stems from the inability to love, if love did not exist then neither would hate, and
whatever predicament those lowly mortals have brought upon themselves is all but deserved.

love is bitter, invading the senses and blooming like a sickening flower; nectar rotting and eating
away at the soul with fervor rivaling passion until there is nothing left but an empty
shell, controlled by mindless thoughts; dampens and soaks the world in a hue of gray to make
everything appear different, like static from a radio which will one day fade into white noise.

love is strong, like a pillar or support that holds up even the sky in face of adversity; it makes
one feel like nothing can beat them, like they could cross the skies and dance in the wind
or drift up in the clouds and watch it rain below; provides shelter and comfort when times are
low and the only way one can go is up; so one naturally thinks their success is all thanks to it.

love is sweet, burst of flavour on the tongue enough to make a child giggle, except in reality it
tastes better tenfold, hundredfold; wraps around the taste buds like scratching an itch behind
an ear, soothing, temporary; and it leaves people wanting another taste, another mouthful of this
delicious, ravishing dessert, chasing the pleasure like one would chase a dream, a shooting star.

love is painful, or perhaps cowardly; its dignity is what keeps it upright, and even if the heart
shrivels up, nothing is forgotten; everything is remembered in excruciating detail with photographic
memory, the touches, emotions, all still remain; not a distant memory, no, but rather a nightly
occurrence, when all is quiet and only desperation can be heard rippling through the still air.

love is powerful, but only to those who let it take charge; it is egotistical, arrogant, its pride
refusing to let it show even a hint of vulnerability; fate is its servant, and fate decides everything
except for those who do not rely on pure luck; those who believe that there is more to their lives
than following the rules; those who reach out for the unreachable and grasp it in their hands.

love is risky, one wrong move and the entire empire tumbles down to bury everything one holds
dear to his heart; teeter on a beam balance between pleasure and pain, heaven and hell, twirl
and saunter on the edge of pure bliss; it acts like it knows justice, like it can decide the future in
a second with a simple action; it can, it can, and submitting to it is the next best thing to freedom.