one of those days.
one of those days
underlying ryan/william // 401 // pg.
it’s one of those days where ryan is completely defeated and blown off course, shirtless and sitting at his kitchen table absently handling a mug of coffee that’s been sitting out overnight, lukewarm after a ten second microwave ride and dripping from ryan’s fingertips as he uses them to stir in coffee mate since all of the spoons in the house are currently hanging out in filthy water at the bottom of the sink. his hair in shambles, underslept eyes red-rimmed and burning after a night of tossing and turning in dry air, he rests his head on the wooden table and confesses this to be just another one of those days.
it’s one of those days in which you can’t decipher day from night; where 3 am looks the same as noon and you're sure every clock in the house is flat-out lying to you.
it’s one of those days where ryan realizes it’s march and his big kitchen window is still outlined with those obnoxiously large christmas lights from when his mom was a kid. where taking them down isn’t exactly high on his to-do list because they sort of fit amongst the dirty dishes and vintage appliances, and maybe william will take the liberty of putting them away the next time he shows up (if he shows up) and ryan won’t fight it because at least something in this house is getting accomplished, even if he’s not the one doing it.
it’s one of those days in which ryan notices his shoulder is bleeding and instead of dabbing the blood away with a paper towel, he collects it on his fingers and paints crimson idly down his arm, letting it dry and then rubbing it off in tiny maroon clumps.
it’s just one of those days, ryan thinks, where he wants to write or paint or do something but doesn’t. doesn’t because those activities require intellect and composure and some sense of mock stability and this is just one of those days in which ryan can’t fake it, so he smashes his mug on the kitchen floor because it makes him feel like a tragedy and hopes someone comes to clean up after him so he can journal about how much he wishes they would go away and write in parenthesis how he (wishes he would stay longer to hold me together for a night or three).
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happy new year from me to you. i hope it's a good one. ♥
underlying ryan/william // 401 // pg.
it’s one of those days where ryan is completely defeated and blown off course, shirtless and sitting at his kitchen table absently handling a mug of coffee that’s been sitting out overnight, lukewarm after a ten second microwave ride and dripping from ryan’s fingertips as he uses them to stir in coffee mate since all of the spoons in the house are currently hanging out in filthy water at the bottom of the sink. his hair in shambles, underslept eyes red-rimmed and burning after a night of tossing and turning in dry air, he rests his head on the wooden table and confesses this to be just another one of those days.
it’s one of those days in which you can’t decipher day from night; where 3 am looks the same as noon and you're sure every clock in the house is flat-out lying to you.
it’s one of those days where ryan realizes it’s march and his big kitchen window is still outlined with those obnoxiously large christmas lights from when his mom was a kid. where taking them down isn’t exactly high on his to-do list because they sort of fit amongst the dirty dishes and vintage appliances, and maybe william will take the liberty of putting them away the next time he shows up (if he shows up) and ryan won’t fight it because at least something in this house is getting accomplished, even if he’s not the one doing it.
it’s one of those days in which ryan notices his shoulder is bleeding and instead of dabbing the blood away with a paper towel, he collects it on his fingers and paints crimson idly down his arm, letting it dry and then rubbing it off in tiny maroon clumps.
it’s just one of those days, ryan thinks, where he wants to write or paint or do something but doesn’t. doesn’t because those activities require intellect and composure and some sense of mock stability and this is just one of those days in which ryan can’t fake it, so he smashes his mug on the kitchen floor because it makes him feel like a tragedy and hopes someone comes to clean up after him so he can journal about how much he wishes they would go away and write in parenthesis how he (wishes he would stay longer to hold me together for a night or three).
-
happy new year from me to you. i hope it's a good one. ♥