To Mend A Broken Heart [Vivi/Ashybby]

Always in a rush, never stay on the phone long enough. Why am I so self-important? Said I see you soon, that was, oh, maybe a year ago. Didn't know time was of the essence. So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. As I drown, in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. I never said, I can't take back the words I never said. Always talking shit, took your advice and did the opposite, just being young and stupid. I haven't been all that you could have hoped for, oh but if you'd held on a little longer, you'd have had more reason to be proud.

---

Once a living being had lost themselves within the woods, the thickly entwined roots of depression and the overlooking branches of exhaustion, it often took a long while to realize that they were, indeed, lost. For the longest time, one was capable of convincing their conscious that they had merely wandered off the path, that any moment the trailhead would veer back into their visuals. Night fell again and again, and one still wielded no idea of where they were, so thickly entangled within their own thoughts and the darkest recesses of their mind to remember how it felt to live alongside the remainder of the cold human race without a stark contrast. Though for him, there was no doubt in the world that he had wandered so far away from the path of solemn sanity that he wielded no idea which way the sun rose anymore. There was no doubt within his mind that he was stumbling into a similar predicament as Quintin had been.

The behaviour was embedded within his mind, the dishevelled man's depression one of many things that defined the mongrel's undying loyalty, the constant yearning to be alongside the deceased man. Now, all he could want from life was for the pain to seem purposeful; for the world to give a reason for his suffering. He didn't want to face the crumbling world around his former life all but going unnoticed. He would often lie in the bedroom, curtains drawn, nothingness washing over him like a sluggish wave. Whatever was happening to him, to whatever extent, was his fault; he had done something wrong, something so huge he couldn't even bring himself to see it, something that slowly drowned him, whilst somehow able to watch everybody breathing around him. He was inadequate and stupid, lacking any form of worth to his name, with nothing to show for his existence, aside from the lost words of a dead man and the acknowledgement of a wolf shifter long gone from the city. Having begun to question the existence of anything, of life itself, the prospect of hell had suddenly become all the more appealing than the pitiful world above. However, how could he go to hell if he was already there?

Glazed crimson irises surveyed the doorway, his limbs trembling as they often did throughout the last months that had passed, his heart catching on a vicious thrum in an anxious awaiton of the feminine's presence, of her arrival, of her sight. The racking of his lungs was fully apparent, each shuddered intake of oxygen sending shooting pains through his ribcage. The darkened haze of his thoughts briefly gave way once more to the thought upon the prospect of what exactly he was doing, why he felt the incessant need to see her. The truth about it was, however, that her voice was the sweetest sound; his favourite of all that reached his ears, constantly playing on through the static of his sorrow, repeating her words within his mind. Her smile, frequent as it might have been, wielded the capability to light the room with each given. Her eyes spoke purity, compassion, a hint of meaning in a bleak world. Despite how broken his heart had become over the past half a year or so, he still felt the incessant urge to offer the shattered fragments to this feminine. Why? Even he did not know, for his heart kept its strange motives a secret, no matter how his mind would protest.

Cast out of his thoughts by the abrupt notion of the door opening, his gaze instinctively sought to study her facials, forcing a brief, faked smile in return to her own greeting one, swallowing harshly against the lump formed within his throat. "... H-hey," he struggled the words through his constantly pained throat, gritting his teeth at quite how hushed, submissive, his vocals were at that current moment in time, his more panicked mindset as of late driving him into such a state. Following her request, however reluctant he might have been, the man cast her a hesitant glance before wandering a few paces inside, surveying the familiar details of the home with a fake curiosity, his only interest truly lying within the woman as a pose to the details of her residence. The mongrel shifter stood rather awkwardly for a moment or two, his gaze knotted to the feminine, releasing a disgruntled huff. Why the fuck had he come here? What had he honestly thought he'd gain? Why her above all others? "I'm s-sorry... I didn't m-mean to just s-show up... I-..." His gaze reluctantly traced her own, "I just needed to see you." What was he supposed to say to her? What had his heart convinced him that was so important? Was here there to merely bear witness to her? He needed her. He really did. Though he hadn't an idea in the slightest of how to put such thoughts into words; he had thought about it, about her, constantly, and yet could not bring himself to muster up any words that he'd consider worth her time. So, he merely stood awkwardly, all too aware of her eyes upon him, his skin feeling as if it had been set alight, his own gaze trained upon the carpet below his feet.

 

---

So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. But I know that you can't hear me anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. And as I drown in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. The longer I stand here, the louder the silence, I know that you're gone, but sometimes I swear that I hear, your voice when the wind blows. So I talk to the shadows, hoping that you might be listening, 'cos I want you to know that it's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said, I never said. I never said. I can't take back the words I never said, I never said.

W O R D S
God knows.

T A G 
@viviennehughes played by ASHYY

N O T E S
I'm so sorry that it took so long... And that it's short, and there's not much to go on. I really did try, but I'm just so friggin tired. I didn't want to leave you waiting any longer though.

M U S E
Words, Shattered, So Cold, Happy Ending, Impossible, Coming Home.

 

Always in a rush, never stay on the phone long enough. Why am I so self-important? Said I see you soon, that was, oh, maybe a year ago. Didn't know time was of the essence. So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. As I drown, in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. I never said, I can't take back the words I never said. Always talking shit, took your advice and did the opposite, just being young and stupid. I haven't been all that you could have hoped for, oh but if you'd held on a little longer, you'd have had more reason to be proud.

---

Depression was a cruel punishment for any, no matter the extent of the sins performed throughout the course of their life; there were no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests to send people surrounding them scurrying in concern. There was only the slow, prolonged erosion of oneself, as insidious as cancer. What and if were two words, just as non-threatening as general words were, though together, they held the ability to haunt a living being as long as they drew breath. What if. What if everything could have been prevented? What if the deaths, the disappearances, were in vain? What if the memories would make an untimely demise just as those that had birthed them? He'd promised himself that he wouldn't blame himself, he had sworn against it for the fear of becoming just as Quintin had once been. He'd lied to himself, if only to make the reality bearable. It hadn't worked. The abrupt retaliation of his mind had the mongrel shifter constantly focused upon the sorrow flooding his heart, the agony coursing through his veins. Others so often implied that they knew what it is like to be depressed, simply due to the fact that they had gone through a divorce, lost a job, or broken up with someone. Though those experiences carried with them emotion; depression, instead, was flat, tiresome, hollow, and unendurable. People could not abide being around a being when they were depressed. They might believe that they ought to, and they might even have tried, though both involved knew that the depressed were tedious beyond belief: one sunk into the depths of depression was irritable, paranoid, humourless, lifeless, critical, demanding and no provided reassurance would ever be enough. They said that one wasn't at all like themselves, but they would be soon... People lied. People always lied.

Choking with dry tears and raging at the absolute indifference of nature and the world to the death of love, the death of hope and the death of beauty, he clearly remembered each night wondering why, why when he felt he had so much to offer, so much love, such outpourings of love and energy to spend on the world, he was incapable of being offered love, giving it or summoning the energy with which he knew could transform himself and everything around him. It was so hard to learn to put sadness in perspective, so hard to understand that it was a feeling that came in degrees; it could be a candle burning gently and harmlessly in one's home, or it could be a full-fledged forest fire that destroyed almost everything and was controlled by almost nothing. It could also be so much in-between. He couldn’t be with people, yet he didn't want to be alone. He could see millions and millions of people, all slotted into their lives, and then there he was; he'd lost his place in the universe. It had closed up and there was nowhere for him to be. He was more lost than he'd known it possible for any living being to be, knowing not of where he belonged. He no longer could tell reality from fantasy, and he walked in a world no longer his own. Everyone was moving on without him, into a world of which he did not understand.

Resisting the urge to shy away from the feminine as her irises set upon his frame, his own crimson hued gaze fell to the terrain below, her lack of returned greeting shrouding the air within a thick silence that plagued the deepest corners of his mind, echoing within his skull. His eyes searched the ground for answers for the thousands of questions racing through his head that, needless to say, he would not receive. His heart pounded violently within his chest, panic seeping through his veins in silenced awaition. He wasn't afraid of her, far from it, though he was afraid to meet her eyes, terrified of what he would find littered within the depths of those green pools. His limbs trembled, biting on the bottom of his lip, shifting his weight awkwardly between his feet, desperately trying to figure something useful to say to the woman, though entering the home hesitantly upon her request.

Stumbling over his own words in effort to blurt out an apology, his vocals shrouded with a raw sincerity, silently pleading for her forgiveness for simply showing up at her door without so much as a warning. However, the sudden notion of her arms draping round his frame had the man jerking in surprise, swallowing against the harsh lump within his throat, the closeness of the feminine unexpected to say the least. His irises softened promptly, however, his own arms settling round her waist, facials burying into her shoulder, his heart both retaliating and soaring at the notion by beating violently, fireworks and symphonies alike tearing through it. Why? He hadn't the slightest clue. The gesture brought at least a momentary comfort, his grip subtly tightening upon her waist, praying that the world could simply grind to a half around them. The mongrel shifter released a weighted huff, crimson hued irises briefly clenching shut. I need you. "T-they're... T-they're g-gone... Vivi, they're a-all gone..." I just fucking need you, okay? His vocals wavered, though he had no attention to spare for the manner of which his words left him. First, he was torn away from Vera, then his best friend slaughtered Quintin, before upping out and leaving too.  Everybody had abandoned him, leaving him to stand the god awful human race alone. I know I'm a fucking idiot, a damn fool. "Y-you're all I h-have..." I'm fearful of how much I need you. Fuck, why am I scared of it? I don't understand... I don't understand any of it, he thought, though the messages flooding through his mind went unspoken.

Her gentle suggestions had the man releasing a quietened huff, his gaze studying the flooring below in hushed contemplation. Granted, he didn't know what the hell kind of game the one she mentioned was, though he was well aware of what a movie was, thankfully. "Uh... I-I d-don't know..." He said such a thing because that had simply become his answer for everything lately, uncertain of even the simplest of things. "I... I g-guess a m-movie s-sounds good..." He deliberately avoided the prospect of discussing his condition, the reasoning behind it. He honestly did want to talk about it, though he was afraid of her reaction above all. He was afraid that she'd never see him as an equal being again. He was afraid of the pity in her eyes when she realized how fucked up he was... That being said, one thought resided permanently in his mind. He had never intended to rely on her, or honestly upon anyone, quite as much as he did, though he found himself needing her like the earth needed the sun to see another day. He liked her, however, it was pointless to express due to the fact that she could do so much better than him, and he didn't honestly think that on a self-pity measure, it was simply what he believed to be the truth of the matter. He knew it wouldn't go anywhere, but he couldn't help holding on to the possibility that maybe there was a hope, maybe there was a chance that she liked him too.

---

So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. But I know that you can't hear me anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. And as I drown in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. The longer I stand here, the louder the silence, I know that you're gone, but sometimes I swear that I hear, your voice when the wind blows. So I talk to the shadows, hoping that you might be listening, 'cos I want you to know that it's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said, I never said. I never said. I can't take back the words I never said, I never said.

W O R D S
God knows.

T A G 
@viviennehughes played by ASHYY

N O T E S
Dawhhhh archienne <3

M U S E
Words, Shattered, So Cold, Happy Ending, Impossible, Coming Home.

 

Always in a rush, never stay on the phone long enough. Why am I so self-important? Said I see you soon, that was, oh, maybe a year ago. Didn't know time was of the essence. So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. As I drown, in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. I never said, I can't take back the words I never said. Always talking shit, took your advice and did the opposite, just being young and stupid. I haven't been all that you could have hoped for, oh but if you'd held on a little longer, you'd have had more reason to be proud.

---

Time had not faded his memories, nor had it cured the resident numbness present within his chest, the scars inflicted upon his heart, as mankind proclaimed it would. He began each morning with the faintest glimmer of hope that the following day would somehow be better than the one prior, and that his recollections became a little less jagged, though he would simply awaken to the same pain, as if a dark lamp was eternally burning within him, blackening his soul, setting his heart alight with every ragged intake of breath his lungs dared to draw, radiating darkness. He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple and yet so impossibly, happy. Throughout the course of each day his heart would gradually descend from his chest into his stomach. With each passing afternoon he became consumed by the thought that nothing was right, or that nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. And, as such, by evening he had often very much fulfilled such a need; alone, kept company only by the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would so often repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. It was almost as if somewhere within the blackened recesses of his mind, he truly believed he was capable of convincing himself of the fact, fooling himself, or even merely convincing those around him. Though, the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. His life wielded an unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. And as such, each night he would eventually fall to sleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, discarded from his chest in shattered fragments, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, though still possessing the faintest trace of life. And by the mid-afternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad. The notion thus far was ineffective, only plunging him briefly into a sense of feeling, some sense of emotion, as a pose to the numbing grief constantly shrouding his mind and actions alike.

Her hushed words reached his ears between the constant flickers of static plaguing his mind, only briefly questioning the odd usage of the word baby. It often connotated to affection, no doubt, though little heart was left to spare for protest, his facials nuzzling slightly into her shoulder, releasing a strange sound between a keen and a dog-like whine, his mongrel counterpart noticeably influencing the sound. It was thickly entwined with an unspoken sorrow, unsaid grief, crimson irises clenched shut, foretelling of only pure melancholy, despite being such a simplistic sound. Slowly, his frame withdrew from her own, his irises twisting downwards, the air suddenly much colder without her warmth alongside him. The closeness of her was the sweetest, sharpest thing he had known for a good long while, so new, and yet he already found himself longing for it.

There was some form of sweet innocence within the fact that she was human, in not having to be just happy or just sad, in the nature of being able to be both broken and whole, at the same time. He wanted nothing more to be able to express how much he adored her, all her flaws, mistakes, smiles, jokes, habits... All of it. Though, he could never truly find the words to sum her up; how could one honestly describe something more beautiful than he believed any mortal being ever could be? He could so easily simply watch her for a passing second, and yet still delve into the deep complexity of a thousand things he loved about her. Her smile, her voice, her body, her laugh, her eyes, just her. The evidently malnourished man slowly reached the conclusion that he had been staring at her, speechless, for an impossible amount of time, lost within his thoughts, lost in the sight of her. He so desperately wanted to reach out, to feel her warmth, to delve into everything the feminine used to be, what she was, and what she was to become. He wanted so desperately to have the courage to speak up, to say something, to tell her how he sometimes lost the sense of her words in the sweet fluting of her voice. He wanted to say that if she were with him then somehow nothing could ever be wrong for him again. In that breathless second he almost asked her. He felt the question boiling up from his chest, drawing a reluctant breath, then hesitating. What could he say? Come away with me? Stay with me? Be with me? No. Sudden uncertainty tightened in his chest like a cold fist. What could he ask her? What could he offer? Nothing. Anything he could have said would surely have sounded foolish, more of a child's fantasy. She smelled like the city, and honey, and the smell the air holds seconds before a heavy summer rain. He didn't speak for a good few moments, closing his eyes briefly.

However, upon her gentle request for him to take better care of himself, his crimson hued eyes fleeted back towards her facials, blinking in a faint surprise. "I... B-but-... I'm not..." He stumbled over his words, trying to figure the right thing to say, some way of denying it without vocalizing it directly. If only it was a simple as her words were. When he hated what he was, what he had become, everything that he had ever been, what use was there in maintaining himself? He was living only for the few that still cared. For Gwen, the mother of Quintin's unborn children, for the faint hope that Cody would someday return, and most of all, for Vivienne. I can't-... I couldn't just... Could I...? His thoughts frantically protested to the notion, though his heart spoke above all. For her. With a definite reluctance, the man's head slowly nodded, however, he provided no verbal answer. He wasn't worth his own time, nevermind hers. Why had he felt the need to come here? Why did he desperately still want someone who could never want him? "F-for y-you..." he repeated, echoing her own speech, as if requiring her confirmation, his crimson irises grazing across the feminine's facials, before falling back to the ground once more, "... I'll t-try."

Her mention of a meal drew a weighted huff from the man, for, despite the gaping hole left in the pit of his stomach, and the constant gnawing feeling of hunger, he never truly wielded the motivation to eat, to preserve himself, until he found himself upon his last legs, merely keeping himself alive. His irises cast across the carpet below his feet, which had been thoroughly studied many-a-time at such a point, and yet still he seemed to pretend it held more interest that she did, which was undoubtedly not true. "B-but I don't n-need-..." he began, though his words promptly faded upon feeling her hand clasp his own, his irises casting down upon entwined limbs with surprise littered within their depths. There was something so... Real about such a notion, about the softness of her skin within his hand. Some kind of complex simplicity, saying so much by doing so little, and seemingly enough to cause him to cave in, as proven by the subtle nod he provided. "I-if... T-that what y-you w-want..." he mumbled gently, his eyes trailing to meet hers, a disgruntled huff heaving through his lungs. He didn't care for himself, for his own well being; he just wanted her to be happy. He just never wanted her to get trapped in the same hell as he. "I j-just pray to g-god that your cooking is b-better than mine," he mumbled in an attempt at a joke, forcing a subtle smile.

Her final question, however, caught the man unawares in all regards, swallowing sharply against the lump formed within his throat, rather unsure of what to say, what to do, what to feel. She wanted him to stay here? But... Why? He was useless, corrupt, sorrowful, unapproachable... What could she possibly want from him? However, something within the deep emerald depths of her eyes, he found himself unable to resist anything she said, something that prevented him from going against her words, something that plagued his mind and wielded the ability to overcome his every thought. A trace of a smile crept onto his lips upon imagining the prospect, "o-okay..." However, his mind promptly submerged him into doubt once more, a frown curling his lips downwards once more. "... I'm s-sorry," he mumbled, for no apparent reason, before repeating it once again, his words slightly more panicked, again with no given reason, "I-I'm s-s-sorry, I'm s-sorry..." His eyes read sorrow once again. "I'm a t-terrible person, V-Vivi. I k-know I'm n-not good enough. I k-know I'm wasting y-your t-time... I'm sorry. If... If I c-could be w-who you w-wanted... I-... I'm sorry."

---

So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. But I know that you can't hear me anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. And as I drown in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. The longer I stand here, the louder the silence, I know that you're gone, but sometimes I swear that I hear, your voice when the wind blows. So I talk to the shadows, hoping that you might be listening, 'cos I want you to know that it's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said, I never said. I never said. I can't take back the words I never said, I never said.

W O R D S
God knows.

T A G 
@viviennehughes played by ASHYY

N O T E S
... I don't know if half of this post makes any sense 'cause I'm friggin tired as hell but I tried xD

M U S E
Sad Song, Words, Shattered, So Cold, Happy Ending, Impossible, Coming Home.

 

Always in a rush, never stay on the phone long enough. Why am I so self-important? Said I see you soon, that was, oh, maybe a year ago. Didn't know time was of the essence. So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. As I drown, in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. I never said, I can't take back the words I never said. Always talking shit, took your advice and did the opposite, just being young and stupid. I haven't been all that you could have hoped for, oh but if you'd held on a little longer, you'd have had more reason to be proud.

---

Love. It was an emotion he had lost all faith within, all hope, all belief; when shrouded within such a throbbing inclination, under the influence of the so called love, he had provided a fragment of himself of which he would give to no other, allowed the few he held close inside a part of him which only they wielded the power to harm. He had quite literally handed each of them a razor, and a map of where to target to inflict the deepest, most painful wounds upon his heart and soul. How could he have been so blind? When the world sought to strike, it was utterly crippling, akin only to the pain of having his heart torn ruthlessly from his chest. It had left him wondering what exactly he had done wrong, what he had done. What was so wrong with him that nobody could keep faith within him? That nobody could love him? To have it happen once was bad enough, though to have it happen more than once? Who in the right mind would not be terrified of that? He had become a genius of sadness, so to speak, immersing himself within it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. He had become a prism through which sadness was divided into its infinite spectrum. The way sadness worked was one of the strange riddles of the world. Should one be stricken with a great sadness, one would feel as if they had been set alight, not only due to the engulfing pain, though also because their sadness had the capability of spreading over their life, akin to smoke from a prodigious fire. One would find it difficult to see anything aside from their sadness, the way smoke would cover a landscape so that all anyone would see was black. Another could pour water over the being, so that they were damp and distracted, though not cured of said sadness, the way a fire department would douse a fire, though never recover what was lost among the flames.

I will be very careful the next time I fall in love, he had long since told himself, through countless hours spent in the dark, lost within the confines of his own mind. Though, the truth was that he had already plummeted back into the emotion, inevitably, undoubtedly. Why was it that when he knew love was simply a shout into the void, and that oblivion was inevitable, and that they were all doomed and that there would come a day when all legends will have returned to dust, and he knew that the sun would swallow the only earth they would ever have, and yet he was in love with her. Of all people, of all places, of all times, he had fallen in love with the only friend he had in the world. It seemed life had a cruel way of unveiling its malevolent schemes. There was always madness in love, though hadn't someone once said there was reason within madness? Darkly toned irises fleeted to look upon her facials once again, the intricate shades of her own hazel eyes, each entwined, delicate strand of shades both green and brown, easily finding himself lost within their depths. The stars were nothing in comparison, a kaleidoscope of vibrant nebulae incomparable to her bright orbs.

The man awkwardly shuffled his feet upon her brief spoken word, his gaze falling back to the flooring below, biting down on his lip in effort to figure something to say, resulting in yet another moment of silence between the pair. However, the shifter flinched slightly upon her frown, the notion of disappointing her immediately silencing him, plaguing his heart and soul alike. The more time he spent alongside her, the more cluttered his mind became, thoughts and memories played in loops until it was madness within his head, though somehow he didn't honestly care. All he desired was for her to be happy, even if he wasn't the one to make her feel such a thing. She deserved someone who loved her with every beat of their heart, someone who spent every minute wondering what she was doing, where she was, who she was with, whether she was alright... She deserved someone who could help her reach her dreams and protect her from her fears. She deserved someone to treat her with respect, love every part of her, especially her flaws. Why was it that he so desperately wanted to be that one? Why did he possibly think for a second that he could be relied on? Why did he possibly believe that there was any fragment of hope within his thoughts? Because he loved her. That was the bottom line of it all. He loved her.

At least he appeared to earn her approval by stating that he'd eat something, if that was what she truly wanted him to do. A hushed snort of bemusement left the man upon her own joke, her laughter sweeter than any melody would ever be, grin breaking out across his facials despite the situation at hand. "Sounds good," he mumbled gently in response her suggestion for spaghetti, despite not knowing what in the name of hell kind of food it was, and if only for a second, his vocals went unwavering. However, all was promptly lost as doubt fleeted back into his mind, consuming his thoughts and actions alike. His gaze scrolled across the ground below, muscles tensing beneath his skin, only succeeding in appearing all the more uncomfortable. "I-I'm sorry..." he mumbled yet again, clenching his irises shut, bowing his head. His breath wavered in panicked shudders, raking through his lungs, bringing pain with each ragged inhale, the erratic nature suddenly all the more apparent. His heart was suddenly in his mouth, well aware of its frantic pounding, the anxiety boiling within his chest and mind alike. Perhaps, if one was to overuse an apology, it caused it to lose its meaning, though he meant it in every sense of the word, with every fragment of his heart he kept within his ribcage. He was sorry for fucking everything up, for not being there, for his very existence. For his sins, for the lives he had taken, he didn't deserve one of his own. He didn't deserve to walk the earth, with the mere acknowledgement of their disappearance, of their demise. All was his fault. He had abandoned Vera, he had allowed Quintin to leave, he hadn't cast a second thought to Cody...

His frame flinched once again upon her words, swallowing roughly against the lump in his throat, his gaze reluctantly lifting to trace her own, attempting to calm himself through the delicately entwined hues of her irises. Unsteady breathing heaved his chest, evidently panicked; why, even he himself didn't know. Darkly toned orbs vanished from view for a brief moment as he closed them, a deep huff leaving him, struggling to find the correct words for the situation at hand. "I-..." How the hell was he supposed to explain how he felt to her? How was he supposed to preach of the expanse of emotions within his chest if he knew not how to describe them? His eyes wildly fleeted between her and the ground, constantly switching between the two, unsure of what to look, what to do, what to say, what to feel. His breath caught in his throat, his skin set alight, his facials faintly flushing. "I... L-love you, Vivi..." Though his constantly shuffling read only panic and discomfort, his eyes read only sincerity. "I n-need you... So much m-more than y-you t-think..." His heart pounded viciously beneath his chest in response to vocalizing such a notion, limbs shuddering with an equal violence, so terrified of what she'd say, of what she'd do.

---

So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. But I know that you can't hear me anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. And as I drown in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. The longer I stand here, the louder the silence, I know that you're gone, but sometimes I swear that I hear, your voice when the wind blows. So I talk to the shadows, hoping that you might be listening, 'cos I want you to know that it's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said, I never said. I never said. I can't take back the words I never said, I never said.

W O R D S
1304

T A G 
@viviennehughes played by ASHYY

N O T E S
ARCHIENNE FTW <333

M U S E
Sad Song, Words, Shattered, So Cold, Happy Ending, Impossible, Coming Home.