(OC: Lusa; Bitter for Sweet; Cexcells, Blaqk Audio)
WC: 513
Rating: PG-13, for suggestive themes, language
Can you tell me what stopped the rain? Where is salvation?
Science, saviors, tragedy?
May I lead the way into temptation?
Sirens screaming just for me and the void remains.
Would you save my life if you knew why this is the last time?
I'm leaving without you.
Could you save my life had the boy that you knew not died?
This is the last time.
I'm leaving with out you in silence.
They went to bed to save each other’s lives. Since they were already dead, this was a futile action - still, they were passionate people, and they both lived for not breathing, still barely beating hope. Her legs were life lines around his thin hips; their mouths were resuscitation against the darkness impeding on both of them.
Clothes flew off as they fell onto the hard mattress - the room was small, but so was their hope. They had to fill the space with it, inflate it to proportions that they could survive on. They had to try, or else die that night like every night before. Kisses moved to foreplay moved to fucking...the squeaking of the bed and the pounding of the headstand against the wall was a tempo for them...but no love.
They held each other afterwards. Her face settled in his neck, the familiar hollow that held her secrets close like the knick-knacks they were. Collected here and there, worth nothing but something to her, and only on the good days. Easily lost as found, just like her, but that was how she liked to keep it. He would wait, he always did. She would wander from place to place, collecting herself, then find her way back to him because he was the finishing piece.
Limbs wrapped around each other to cling, though not for affection’s sake - she knew they held a semblance of love, but were such emotions available for damned creatures? He cared for her, she knew that much, but was it more of a possession, an object with which to affix value and status? Broken though she was, she knew not how they would want her.
Her lips traced down one vein, teeth nicking at the skin. He tilted his head back, giving permission and she bit down as he winced at the pain, gritting teeth. One hand of hers moved over his face, holding it like his identity might leak away while she suckled, soft and slow to make the pain ebb. The blood escaped from her mouth, her lips, to trail down their skin and soak into the bedspread. She drank him to sleep, until his death state was so perfect that it broke her heart to leave him.
No, he wasn’t dead. Hardly - if he were, she might as well finish herself because there was nothing else for her after him. Standing, clothed only in the dried blood, she looked out the window to let her eyes sip the rain. It was light - a soft cry, not of longing, but of loneliness where one’s tried so hard that they just don’t have any more in them to keep going.
"Can you tell me what stopped the rain?" She asked him, while he slept softly, his chest rising and falling. His answer came in breaths, a secret so sweet and fragile that there was no other way to pass it along without fracturing it into a thousand pieces. Quickly dressing, she left him where she knew she could find him - her toy, left in its toy box.
Rating: PG-13, for suggestive themes, language
Can you tell me what stopped the rain? Where is salvation?
Science, saviors, tragedy?
May I lead the way into temptation?
Sirens screaming just for me and the void remains.
Would you save my life if you knew why this is the last time?
I'm leaving without you.
Could you save my life had the boy that you knew not died?
This is the last time.
I'm leaving with out you in silence.
They went to bed to save each other’s lives. Since they were already dead, this was a futile action - still, they were passionate people, and they both lived for not breathing, still barely beating hope. Her legs were life lines around his thin hips; their mouths were resuscitation against the darkness impeding on both of them.
Clothes flew off as they fell onto the hard mattress - the room was small, but so was their hope. They had to fill the space with it, inflate it to proportions that they could survive on. They had to try, or else die that night like every night before. Kisses moved to foreplay moved to fucking...the squeaking of the bed and the pounding of the headstand against the wall was a tempo for them...but no love.
They held each other afterwards. Her face settled in his neck, the familiar hollow that held her secrets close like the knick-knacks they were. Collected here and there, worth nothing but something to her, and only on the good days. Easily lost as found, just like her, but that was how she liked to keep it. He would wait, he always did. She would wander from place to place, collecting herself, then find her way back to him because he was the finishing piece.
Limbs wrapped around each other to cling, though not for affection’s sake - she knew they held a semblance of love, but were such emotions available for damned creatures? He cared for her, she knew that much, but was it more of a possession, an object with which to affix value and status? Broken though she was, she knew not how they would want her.
Her lips traced down one vein, teeth nicking at the skin. He tilted his head back, giving permission and she bit down as he winced at the pain, gritting teeth. One hand of hers moved over his face, holding it like his identity might leak away while she suckled, soft and slow to make the pain ebb. The blood escaped from her mouth, her lips, to trail down their skin and soak into the bedspread. She drank him to sleep, until his death state was so perfect that it broke her heart to leave him.
No, he wasn’t dead. Hardly - if he were, she might as well finish herself because there was nothing else for her after him. Standing, clothed only in the dried blood, she looked out the window to let her eyes sip the rain. It was light - a soft cry, not of longing, but of loneliness where one’s tried so hard that they just don’t have any more in them to keep going.
"Can you tell me what stopped the rain?" She asked him, while he slept softly, his chest rising and falling. His answer came in breaths, a secret so sweet and fragile that there was no other way to pass it along without fracturing it into a thousand pieces. Quickly dressing, she left him where she knew she could find him - her toy, left in its toy box.