rose
rose
sooseop; r; angst
warnings: self-harm, character death, generally disturbing stuff
you're doing it again. i can see it, stained silver bright under the sickly yellow glow from the single, flickering light bulb. crimson streaks over ivory, mass of angry slashes over your stomach, your thighs.
dull aching in my chest; watch as you lean your head back against the tiled wall, slender frame trembling as you drag the curve of metal over your abdomen. deadly thorn that leaves liquid roses in its wake, tracing new paths over old, faded ones. you're bleeding rust petals; a disturbingly beautiful sight of garish red softness scattered over ripped silk.
you bite your bottom lip, fingers scrabbling against glossed tiles. skin is the violin and blade is the bow. draw it back and forth, move up and down the fingerboard. play the refrain of your sorrow and despondency interspersed with a backbeat of sharp inhales and shuddering exhales, the patter of water droplets upon skin and ceramic.
(you've long perfected the art of losing yourself in pain and self-hatred.)
reach out to save you, pull your body into my arms. you leave a damp imprint on my clothes, tinted with pink in patches. tremble, feel the heated rain of your tears upon my shoulders.
you're a blossoming rose, drowning in your deadly self-composed melody. delicate, opened-up and exposed. grotesque beauty in the form of bone flashing brilliant white within dark crimson gashes; the shallow caving in and expanding of skeletal ribcage beneath torn skin.
"i'm sorry." your breath ghosts over my skin, hot and heavy with the scent of iron. furrow my eyebrows; what are you apologizing for?
you only smile weakly, pressing yourself harder against my chest. a line of scarlet dew trickles from the corner of your lips. coppery velvet against my skin; i feel a hard knob between our chests.
"i'm sorry." repeat the two words, barely more than a whisper stolen away by the hail of the shower behind you (us).
watch helplessly as you draw the silver thorn from deep within your heart, slick form collapsing forward, limp and unmoving in my arms.
(a beautiful rose trampled beneath the stampede of expectations, the storm of harsh words.)
hold you even tighter, stain your cheeks with my sorrow. hushed, desperate pleas; don't go, please kiseop-ah, hang on, don't go, don't --
the glow of life dims in your eyes beneath the curtain of your lashes. petals shrivel up; you are still and lifeless fragility in my embrace.
grow, bloom, wither.
leave behind scarlet petals and silver thorns, sickly sweet metallic scent filling the air. sink down to the ground (ache in chest throbs even harder), gently caress your still-warm skin and feel you fade away beneath my fingertips.
sooseop; r; angst
warnings: self-harm, character death, generally disturbing stuff
you're doing it again. i can see it, stained silver bright under the sickly yellow glow from the single, flickering light bulb. crimson streaks over ivory, mass of angry slashes over your stomach, your thighs.
dull aching in my chest; watch as you lean your head back against the tiled wall, slender frame trembling as you drag the curve of metal over your abdomen. deadly thorn that leaves liquid roses in its wake, tracing new paths over old, faded ones. you're bleeding rust petals; a disturbingly beautiful sight of garish red softness scattered over ripped silk.
you bite your bottom lip, fingers scrabbling against glossed tiles. skin is the violin and blade is the bow. draw it back and forth, move up and down the fingerboard. play the refrain of your sorrow and despondency interspersed with a backbeat of sharp inhales and shuddering exhales, the patter of water droplets upon skin and ceramic.
(you've long perfected the art of losing yourself in pain and self-hatred.)
reach out to save you, pull your body into my arms. you leave a damp imprint on my clothes, tinted with pink in patches. tremble, feel the heated rain of your tears upon my shoulders.
you're a blossoming rose, drowning in your deadly self-composed melody. delicate, opened-up and exposed. grotesque beauty in the form of bone flashing brilliant white within dark crimson gashes; the shallow caving in and expanding of skeletal ribcage beneath torn skin.
"i'm sorry." your breath ghosts over my skin, hot and heavy with the scent of iron. furrow my eyebrows; what are you apologizing for?
you only smile weakly, pressing yourself harder against my chest. a line of scarlet dew trickles from the corner of your lips. coppery velvet against my skin; i feel a hard knob between our chests.
"i'm sorry." repeat the two words, barely more than a whisper stolen away by the hail of the shower behind you (us).
watch helplessly as you draw the silver thorn from deep within your heart, slick form collapsing forward, limp and unmoving in my arms.
(a beautiful rose trampled beneath the stampede of expectations, the storm of harsh words.)
hold you even tighter, stain your cheeks with my sorrow. hushed, desperate pleas; don't go, please kiseop-ah, hang on, don't go, don't --
the glow of life dims in your eyes beneath the curtain of your lashes. petals shrivel up; you are still and lifeless fragility in my embrace.
grow, bloom, wither.
leave behind scarlet petals and silver thorns, sickly sweet metallic scent filling the air. sink down to the ground (ache in chest throbs even harder), gently caress your still-warm skin and feel you fade away beneath my fingertips.