𝐦𝐜𝐲𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 !

stockholm | niki x wilbur

𝘵𝘸: 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘦𝘥, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘰!

𝘢/𝘯: l'appel du vide
𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 - 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥, 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘧.

𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 + 𝘢𝘳𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯! 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘢, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘱 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥  𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤, 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 :)

                                  -

wilbur wouldn't hurt her.

he wouldn't.

would he?

the glass cracks in her vice-like grip and shatters into a million and one pieces that lie on her bed, glittering wickedly up at her as she scowls back. a few choice shards lie embedded in her palm, carving soft red rivers in their wake. the blood stains and mats her hair as she runs her fingers through it in her frustration.

she doesn't feel pain. god, niki doesn't feel anything without him and that scares her beyond belief. she's invincible, yet a smattering of those cruel words that drip so smoothly off his tongue could make her crumble in an instant.

ha. as if she isn't crumbling already.

her hands shake slightly as she lights the cigarette and she almost regrets starting the stupid habit until she remembers she can't think for herself anymore. so she takes a deep breath and watches the smoke slip from her lips, twisting into surreal patterns that make her head pound. and, just the once, she allows herself to think about him.

if words were a weapon, wilbur soot wielded them like jackknives, piercing the hearts of each and every unfortunate soul he came across. she pitied them; the girls in his music class who were lovesick enough to believe that they had a place in his lovesongs and the boys and other folk in english lit, practically falling over eachother in the desperate hope of earning his approval. if he'd asked them to jump off a cliff or walk in front of a train for him, she wouldn't of doubted for a second that they would. it was honestly surprising that he hadn't, knowing wilbur.

she wished she didn't know wilbur

everything would be better if she didn't.

know.

wilbur.

but, she mused, it was too late for that now. too late for regret and sorrow because at the end of the day, she was wilbur's and he was hers. that's just how it is, and always shall be.