Every inch (Lucas/Oleg)
The mind is a curious thing.
It can save your life but just as well condemn you to death. It can be pushed to limits unimaginable but then fails to alert you of your mother-in-law’s birthday. It shuts down completely out of self-defence and yet it can remind you at the oddest of times how much you miss plums. It makes you crave the comforting cruelty of a hard floor and yet you can’t quite bring yourself to shut the too many doors of your flat at night.
Week after week, month after excruciating month you have seen his face contorted in ugly grimaces as your body jolted awake at the memory of electricity cursing through your veins but now when he’s… when you could finally be free again (or at least pretend you can still operate on principles like freedom) your dreams are suddenly occupied with the look on his face when he realized your final betrayal and a much older memory deep down in the recesses of your mind: the feeling of hungry lips in the hollow of your neck.
The mind is a curious thing.
And you can’t help but wonder what Oleg would say about that.