(no subject)
Wreck of the Day
A good woman can save you when you’re real down, to the point that you have the smell of the dirt in your nose - but then there are those who just like to see just how many worms you’ll swallow before you choke.
Relationships work in a system of points. It was a mathematical equation, a scientific formula that Charlie had grown to love and embrace the same way he embraced the fact that our chemistry, that our own formulas were the only things that kept us from flying a million different ways at once. Relationships work in a system of points - and there are those that never give as much as they take, and those who never take as much as they give.
If he had to calculate, he’d be batting about -550. It was time for molecules to start flying in every direction, and he was sure that was exactly what he saw when the door slammed in his face and he ended up sitting on the floor in what felt like a familiar position to him now. Some people have warm blankets and memories, their hot chocolate on the winter days, their comforts and their standbys. Charlie had this wood floor that he came down onto when the doors shut and nobody could see in, when the only eyes inside were those barred by picture frames. He played with his lower lip idly, pinching it between his forefinger and thumb as he slumped back against the door. Negative five-hundred and fifty had never felt so low.
It wasn’t that Charlie was a bad boyfriend, it wasn’t that he was a bad guy at all - and hell, nobody could say he wasn’t good looking, a sort of classic look with black streaks of hair waggling across his forehead like shadows coming out to play. Blue eyes that you could wring out and wash the windows with.
But given time and given effort, Charlie stacked up the points in his favor. He piled them on one by one - roses and dinner on an unexpected day, followed by rooftop romance. He baked layer cakes for her filled with emotions he thought he felt, and she was left withering in the shadows trying to catch up to his feelings. Charlie effectively pushed them out of his life in a scientific process, overshadowing them until they withered away.
And then he ended up on the floor behind a door. Staring in at pictures that stared back at him, pulling at his lip, closing his eyes and wishing he could go back home.
A good woman can save you when you’re real down, to the point that you have the smell of the dirt in your nose - but then there are those who just like to see just how many worms you’ll swallow before you choke.
Relationships work in a system of points. It was a mathematical equation, a scientific formula that Charlie had grown to love and embrace the same way he embraced the fact that our chemistry, that our own formulas were the only things that kept us from flying a million different ways at once. Relationships work in a system of points - and there are those that never give as much as they take, and those who never take as much as they give.
If he had to calculate, he’d be batting about -550. It was time for molecules to start flying in every direction, and he was sure that was exactly what he saw when the door slammed in his face and he ended up sitting on the floor in what felt like a familiar position to him now. Some people have warm blankets and memories, their hot chocolate on the winter days, their comforts and their standbys. Charlie had this wood floor that he came down onto when the doors shut and nobody could see in, when the only eyes inside were those barred by picture frames. He played with his lower lip idly, pinching it between his forefinger and thumb as he slumped back against the door. Negative five-hundred and fifty had never felt so low.
It wasn’t that Charlie was a bad boyfriend, it wasn’t that he was a bad guy at all - and hell, nobody could say he wasn’t good looking, a sort of classic look with black streaks of hair waggling across his forehead like shadows coming out to play. Blue eyes that you could wring out and wash the windows with.
But given time and given effort, Charlie stacked up the points in his favor. He piled them on one by one - roses and dinner on an unexpected day, followed by rooftop romance. He baked layer cakes for her filled with emotions he thought he felt, and she was left withering in the shadows trying to catch up to his feelings. Charlie effectively pushed them out of his life in a scientific process, overshadowing them until they withered away.
And then he ended up on the floor behind a door. Staring in at pictures that stared back at him, pulling at his lip, closing his eyes and wishing he could go back home.