Implode [edited version]

o4 implosion

[ o4 implosion ]

His eyes were rimmed with red, golden oculars surrounded by the crimson hue. His eyes burned with the boiling liquid that could have been considered tears. The crushing weight of his own realization, despite that wonderful façade of perfect indifference to the whole matter, was slowly suffocating him as he entered the dimly lit alley. Steam rose high from a vent, clogging the visibility of the small gap in the buildings.

The clacking of heels rocked him out of his stupor on a hushed beat, and his head lifted in time to see a figure headed his way. Ambrose looked up in time to gaze at the golden visage of Laurisse, glossed pink lips pulled down in a heavy frown. He might have made some sort of remark if he weren’t already feeling crushed by the recent epiphany.

“Never has a man been such a fool,” she chastised, “You’re crossing the line; you know that.”

Ambrose said nothing in reply, and this seemed to provoke the blonde into a furious movement. Fisting his shirt, she lifted him off the ground as if he were rag doll, her eyes flashing a murderous red with her anger. Of course, there was little response to this action as well, and she seemed to notice the ongoing silence as a prompt to continue.

“I allowed the creepy letters and flowers, but you just fucked up that chance,” she spat, “She just called me, crying over Matt. You can’t honestly think this is making my job any easier.”

At this, Ambrose reacted. The disheveled shell of a creature transformed back into the indifference that had aligned his features in a look of boredom. Only, this time, his lips twitched upward in a satisfied smirk.

“I can do bigger things than that, Laurisse,” he hissed viciously, “I can do a lot worse. One little gift isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

“A ‘little’ gift? You sent her a beating heart. She’s never going to get that out of her head, and it’s gonna be on me.”

“Then, she’ll remember me,” Ambrose responded smugly.

“She doesn’t know,” Laurisse mocked, grinning as the smirk slipped from his face, “I told her it was probably just some sick joke. She won’t remember you.”

That epiphany that hit him earlier on came back to him. Those things that he’d known deep down just forced their way to the top like it was nothing, ripping through whatever sanity that had managed to keep to himself.

This minor break in his psyche want unnoticed by the blonde, who’d let him go and was proceeding with a rant that he barely paid attention to, because what was the point of it? Nothing, when he was breaking as he was.

“She’s just so needy. It’s exhausting, keeping up with her emotions, and that gloomy turn she always has. Feigning friendship with her is trying my patience,” Laurisse complained, “She’s a picky eater, and then there’s —”

By that time, Ambrose had already lost most interest in what was going on with the blonde. His mind was still wrapped around the idea of her not remembering. She didn’t remember, not a thing of what they’d shared. What was the point, then? Why was he trying? He forced a hand through the rough tangles of his hair, and slowly began to curl in on himself as a sob shook his frame.

Soon, Laurisse’s chatter died out as his sobbing grew louder and more persistent.

“This isn’t my fault,” he managed past a gasp for breath, “None of this is my fault.” It was as if he were comforting himself, like this punishment was simply a dream. Pushing the blame somewhere else would be perfect, especially with his current state. For him to resort to such a thing was only expected of the situation, but the blonde couldn’t comprehend.

She couldn’t understand what was making to be in such a state, not when they had done what had caused this whole mess. A happy accident of destruction resulted in this turmoil, left them at this point. Her lips curled up in disgust, and that sadistic affinity she’d felt for his suffering visage vanished as if it’d never existed.

Only moments before she’d wanted to kiss away the trembling lines of his lips, stare into the broken and soiled golden eyes of his, but there was no appeal to it now. He was less than a man in his current state, just a sobbing boy in a dirty alley grieving over something he shouldn’t have had in the first place.

“You’re pathetic,” she spat finally, after moments of watching him break and collapse in on himself.

Turning briskly on her heels, she spared him one last look before groaning and walking off, blonde strands of hair whisking through the air.

“She doesn’t remember me.”

// in case people have forgotten or are new to this, this here is really just a filler, and  alittle perspective into Ambrose. 

Enjoy~