He was wrong. I didnt become cold. It claimed me before we parted ways. But my past is now under frozen slates of harbour and i would do everything so spring never comes; my past is burried in grave in forest that still sings hymes to my crimes; my past is more me than i am me today. I am ruthless wind he leaves windows open when blowing, because he likes the sound of things shattering, it muffles the wails of his heart that lies in pieces; i am words my father is horrified to hear and in his ignorance that he graces me with calls them bullshit, while i pour my heart out of every truth because lies have pulled the rope too tight around my throat around my mind around my heart i am running in circles so i write write write get it all out hoping one day words will get me out of my head and into sunlight that wont hurt; i am my enemy and i hate both of them.
He was in jacket and his curls were wild and untamed. We met in the middle of the street, greeting with usual teasing like no time has passed at all. Even then i knew time didnt steer him right into my path by pure coincadance. I was mad, you see. My mind tortured by reality it didnt recognize as authority over its wandering nature that seized every moment to escape in carefully created daydream retreat that had its foundations planted on drive home from party where boy with curls another kid that didnt believe anymore in happy endings, got so wasted that he never again remembered how he changed my life with just one conversation.
He had his demons. And i was getting familiar with knowledge they come in various shapes, and that no one escapes their acquantace; he tried to drown them. I never fully understood depth of misery that can carve a home in every surface underneath skin, settle there and dig further into essence of your being, with every hit more desperate to get to the heart where child hides, until alex died and i was left with his and mine demons and they were one and the same; where kit was my tragic counterpart whose sadness and anger matched mine if not in level of poisoning yet, in lonliness we exiled ourselves when we realised we are becoming poison ourselves; alex was romantic notion life can get better if you surround yourself with people who are in sync with your heart, who know not to leave you alone when you withdraw.
Kit knew when i needed silence; but alex knew i needed life too.
He said i left my pin at his place all those years ago and that he thought i should have it back. Or he just needed excuse to see me. He could've gone further north and see polar lights if he needed to feel me.
"i am not going up there again. Besides, you arent spirit yet."
Yet, i bet i haunt his dreams neverthless.
I turn my attention to golden pin i started turning over in my hand, inspecting sides like its not memento i used to keep on a bedside cupboard for years, just so I don't have to meet his teddy bear gaze. I cant afford to go back there.
Cheap prop replica from some book series popular while i was still in school. More than a fandom triffle.
Relic of hope.
He carries shadow in his pockets, i have them too many to tell when one leaves me.
Is love I stomped out under northern lights, somewhere out there or still in us?
He closed my fingers over it with his and held them there then pulled me in bearhug. He still smells like home.
We walked around town, christmas market and tivoli lights, shoulders brushing, pin heavy in pocket of my coat, Christmas carols and cinnamon in air, I don't remember he ever came to visit me back in day when I was just designated driver and he was the cool kid who befriended me.
II.
"Can i stay with you?" I whisper.
"Always" cookies are brittle i can hear him chewing on bite.
Box between us is almost empty. I can see blades of grass underneath plastic bottom.
Kit Harington imagine 2
Start from the beginning
