affinity ; gawsten

seven

wow neha writing a chapter that isn't triggering,,,,a concept

Things start to feel different.

A week bleeds into two and they pass quickly, faster than he's ever known time to. He doesn't think. He hasn't for a while now. The world is moving on and time is passing and his life is happening before his eyes, and for the first time in his twenty-one years on the planet, it feels different.

The world is brighter. It feels that way, like someone's put a vibrancy filter on everything and he's seeing it more saturated, more colorful, more vivid, than he's ever seen anything before. His eyes have been opened after spending so long in the dark. It feels like putting in hearing aids for the first time, picking up a pair of glasses and seeing the world for its sharp and clear and beautiful.

Everything is shiny, laden with a blanket of sparkles. It feels warm, like sunrays beating against his back and liquefying in his chest, tendrils spreading outward from a plant of warm and turning his entire body light. He feels light. He doesn't weigh anything. He's floating on a cloud of glitter and it's slowly managing to take over everything, stretch out and expand and turn every aspect of his world shiny.

It's a breath of fresh air; much needed relief to the roots in his chest. The bone fragments are jagged and the air is glue and he's finally starting to feel new, again, finally starting to feel whole and healed and different, than he usually does.

He spends most of his days exploring with Geoff, checking out a new park or people watching at the Starbucks in whatever city they've landed in for the day. They sit at the back and observe the activity, shit, look at that lady's purse. They forgot her whipped cream, do you think she's gonna- oh, yep, there she goes, laugh at some of the shitty customers and rant about the others, god, how has the barista not thrown their drink at them? I would've been beyond done by now, spend their free time coming up with stories for the different people they see, oh, that bitch is probably just with him for his money, look how she's looking at the fuckin' barista, for fuck's sakes. And he doesn't even give a shit. She's eye-fucking another guy and he doesn't even care.

It's stupid.

He knows that much. He knows he could be doing a lot of other things – should be doing a lot of other things – back at the venue. The band is still new and they don't even have an album out yet. They need to be doing a lot more promo. Even walking up to some kids who're on their own and just striking up a conversation is good. You were one of them, once. You know what to say.

He does. He knows that if a band member came up to him and started talking while he was just attending Warped Tour for fun, started treating him like a friend and not making it obvious they were trying to promote something...he would've jumped at the chance to be friends. He would've jumped at the chance to make that connection and cultivate that friendship; known that he got to be there from the beginning and that was something no one could take away from him.

He knows the benefits and he knows what he's losing out on.

But the thought of going up to random kids and trying to force a friendship feels like sparking two pieces of damp wood. His heart is pounding faster just thinking about it, they're gonna think you're stupid and know you're using them and Will's gonna be so mad it'll all be so bad don't bother don't even bother it's better not to try than to fail it's better not to try than to fail it's better not to try-

Instead of doing something that makes him anxious, that wakes the stingers beneath his skin and makes the pain plants sprout up from within, instead of kicking his heart into overdrive and sending the anxiety in untamable tides, instead of fragmenting his chest and keeping the breaths from staying at rest, he can focus on the only part of his life that doesn't, the light and sparkly you can breathe here you can breathe now you can breathe-