[ChicletPrime]

There are times when he wishes it was harder. 

It should never be this thoughtless, after all, should never be quite this simple. Yet he should falter in his trajectory somehow, as if he could still make such a mistake? Be slower perhaps; fumble even. Show himself as mortal as any.

He know longer remembers how to be anything but the edge that he’s become. Because for all the practice with wood and repetition and dull edges meant only to bruise, those are very, very far in his past and she is here, heat and life and eyes that no longer know him and lips that are too unsure to smile and he will hold nothing back, not even to spare himself the pain, to order to make a space for something, anything to grow again.

He can no longer pretend to be other than what he is but the grace of it, at least, is that she doesn’t know yet what she sees. 

[Coldsaturn]

Angst. All the angst.
<3