Comments | onoratalogs: if you show, you show (closed & complete)

virucide in onoratalogs

if you show, you show (closed & complete)

Jul 28, 2008 06:58

WHO: Mello (virucide) & Matt (lungrot).
WHAT: The comfort log?
WHERE: Car, then their apartment.
WHEN: Day 76, after this.

( i'm taken, i am yours, i am up and doing circles )

mello, matt

Comments 26

lungrot July 29 2008, 06:06:46 UTC

What's there to say, indeed ( ... )

virucide July 29 2008, 07:22:01 UTC

Mello's arm moves, lowering, rubbing fingertips into the fiber of the flooring until his whole hand begins to burn. It travels through the damaged bones and ligaments, a stinging ache that centers in his palm. His body is struggling to pull itself back together, collect the remnants scattered and torn the previous night and arrange them correctly, get them back in order. The healing process has become absolute agony, hindered only by the morphine heavy in his veins.

He breathes out.

Bottle-blue eyes, narrowed until the whites are barely visible, slide to his bare feet. There's blood crusted around his nails, a disgusting shade of dark maroon that stands out vividly against pale skin; his fingernails are much the same. Everything Dexter hadn't cleaned up up sits, festers, feels as though it's contaminating him, leeching the life away from him. He wants to shower. To scrub and scrub and scrub until it all goes awayHe feels like he's going to be sick ( ... )

lungrot July 29 2008, 09:44:47 UTC

The automobile whines as Matt takes another sharp turn, overwhelmed by the urgency with which he aches to hide behind his home's closed doors and curtains. Their home, just him and the blonde in the backseat, no-one to break in and knock down walls built from years' worth of confidence and assertion, no-one to make their blood run cold and their stomachs spill from worry and terror. It's a nice illusion the red head is surprised to find comfort in-- Reggio Calabria's renown violence had yet to phase him until just now.

At the hitch of breath and groaning behind him, Matt near slams the breaks. His heart hammers against the growing tightness of his chest and the cigarette tucked haphazardly between his saliva-slicked lips slips, falls into his lap, it's incandescent tip burning through denim. "Shit!", he hisses, picking the offending cigarette up between shaking fingers and flicking it out the half-opened window, sighing ( ... )

SIGH, ME. virucide July 30 2008, 02:00:43 UTC

The interrupted question is otherwise ignored; he pretends he hasn't heard it. All that matters is getting home, finding some relative familiarity before he absolutely looses it. So when they pull into the small parking deck, he's already sitting up, popping the car door open and sliding to place both bare feet on the warm pavement. Matt's assistance is something he has to accept as much as he loathes it, because he can't walk on his leg alone without the support. Which makes the next task, the stairs (their apartment building doesn't have an elevator, which hadn't been a problem until now), an embarrassingly difficult feat ( ... )

Thread 26