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Every now and then I feel the end of us
what is this I don't even
(file this one under "REVISE AT END OF MONTH CAUSE WTF" Probably needs to be twice this length before it can start being coherent.)
Series: Kingdom (Long December??????? Probably not canon?)
Characters: Deon, Mara
She thought she knew what his anger looked like. She thought she knew his whole range of emotion, all of it, especially in those bygone nights with only a bottle of vodka between them, when he let her see too much of him and both knew it.
The wind howled murder, the rain threatened to strip the very paint off the house. Neither was more terrible than his eyes.
"When did everything wrong in your life become my fault?" Deon grasped the banister right next to her, his fingers twisted over the wood.
"Tell me, Mara. How else can I ruin your life for you? Dare me to do worse." It was hard, so hard, to figure out where sarcasm ended and malice began, if there was even a line. "You make it seem like it's all 'cause of me."
He didn't touch her, but he came so close, looming into that personal space of hers he so clearly avoided in the week since he returned.
He threw his other hand out to the sky past the porch, to the black storms above churning full with lightning and sleet.
"Maybe you think all of this is my fault too." His lips twisted into that mockery of a smile. "Tell me that I even make it rain all just to ruin your days."
"Deon," she warned.
Still he moved closer, his hand so nearly at hers now. "Tell me-"
"Go home."
He stopped, arm half-raised as if he might still move. He didn't. Deon turned his back to her, when down the stairs. Within a minute, his truck started, and was gone from her life once again.
But Mara didn't see any of this. She pressed her forehead against the banister, and didn't open her eyes for a long time.
(file this one under "REVISE AT END OF MONTH CAUSE WTF" Probably needs to be twice this length before it can start being coherent.)
Series: Kingdom (Long December??????? Probably not canon?)
Characters: Deon, Mara
She thought she knew what his anger looked like. She thought she knew his whole range of emotion, all of it, especially in those bygone nights with only a bottle of vodka between them, when he let her see too much of him and both knew it.
The wind howled murder, the rain threatened to strip the very paint off the house. Neither was more terrible than his eyes.
"When did everything wrong in your life become my fault?" Deon grasped the banister right next to her, his fingers twisted over the wood.
"Tell me, Mara. How else can I ruin your life for you? Dare me to do worse." It was hard, so hard, to figure out where sarcasm ended and malice began, if there was even a line. "You make it seem like it's all 'cause of me."
He didn't touch her, but he came so close, looming into that personal space of hers he so clearly avoided in the week since he returned.
He threw his other hand out to the sky past the porch, to the black storms above churning full with lightning and sleet.
"Maybe you think all of this is my fault too." His lips twisted into that mockery of a smile. "Tell me that I even make it rain all just to ruin your days."
"Deon," she warned.
Still he moved closer, his hand so nearly at hers now. "Tell me-"
"Go home."
He stopped, arm half-raised as if he might still move. He didn't. Deon turned his back to her, when down the stairs. Within a minute, his truck started, and was gone from her life once again.
But Mara didn't see any of this. She pressed her forehead against the banister, and didn't open her eyes for a long time.