[ it wasn't as if she hadn't experienced the more aggressive edge to his tone, the two of them spitting anything that may hurt at one another from the beginning, all in efforts to convince themselves there was nothing there. if there wasn't, they'd of never had to try in the first place. his words still resolve a thick pang in the centre of her chest, chewing at the inner of her cheeks. ]
it's not just about what i want, ace.
[ maybe it's cruel of her, to have allowed another to wrap their arms at her waist where he could see, to try and convince herself that it was okay, that any part of her deserves to be forgiven even if she didn't really do anything wrong. she's too used to it, giving in to the pressures around her, by her classmates, her father. ]
[ he's growing tired of this. the sneaking around, the lying, the pretending that the other means nothing more to him than just a body, one he succumbs to so often only out of convenience. despite forming a hardened exterior after the fire that took most of his family, there's still something inside his chest, and it's aching, burning for something more. the rational side of him recognizes that it's is fault as much as it is hers; neither of them had to give in to each other. if only they hadn't, they wouldn't be here. wanting to be together, forced to be apart.
if only he were smarter, he'd end it here. he wouldn't give in, wouldn't show up at that hotel. he'd do what they should have done long ago. but his intelligence only lies in academics, it seems, as the engine of his car roars to life. ]
[ maybe his detachment would cut a bit deeper if she wasn't thinking about having him there, imagining the familiar purr to his car; a hope that doesn't belong blooming throughout her that some part of him is as eager as she, even in such a situation. his temper was not easily rivaled, and while she should say something on how she'd sent the other boy home, how she'd never even let him up to the room, she'll let him see for himself.
right now the less she said, the better. even with words welling beneath her tongue in waiting, causing heart to thud a bit flightier than usual. ]
okay. room 113, i'll call the front to let them know you're coming.
[ he's at a battle with himself the entire drive, knowing that she's the very last girl he should be seeing tonight; there's plenty of others willing to distract him for the night, and still he chooses her. he hates himself for that, for succumbing to a girl that doesn't care for him beyond what he's capable of in the bedroom. for the longest time, he'd convinced himself that was all he needed, but the weight he feels now suggests otherwise. he's always been the one that cared far too much; he was a fool to believe that even the flames could take that away.
it doesn't take long at all to end up in front of hotel room door, hand hovering just above the knob, gaze lingering on his own bruised knuckles. never before has he hesitated to slip into a room with her. once upon a time, it had been an escape for him-- being with her. now, it only leaves him feeling more empty than before, though he hadn't known he had anything left in him to take. finally, the knob turns and he steps inside, scarred countence absent of usual conceited smirk. ]
let me guess; he couldn't last more than two minutes so you need more.
[ the thing is, she doesn't want to be just a distraction for him anymore. doesn't want to be a girl he thinks just allows him to crawl into her bed as easily as any others; not a single hand other than his own has touched her since they'd delved deeper than they should've. since she started climbing upon his mattress, against the heat of his back because she couldn't sleep, not just for a fuck to exhaust her enough to.
when she sees him, there isn't the usual smirk on his lips nor hers, and he looks... tired. sad, even, in a boyish way she isn't familiar with. she has seen a slight preview of the vulnerability that lay beneath the scarred boy, but he never let her in for long. she supposes she hasn't opened up much, either. they were both to blame. and yet here they stood, a tension between them as if hatred had bloomed itself between the cracks of their lust.
she shuts the door and quietly ticks the lock into place, drawing a slow, silent sigh at his comment. he's said far worse, but she hadn't invited him here to fight. ]
He didn't come up. [ voice uncharacteristically soft, lingerings of a glow still along her cheekbones from the evening's makeup. she clears her throat, wrapping a single arm around her front. ] I came here alone.
[ where he's typically all to eager to eliminate any space between them, it makes a point to distance himself now, brushing past her, his demeanor ever-so cold and uninviting, as if his frigidity has ever been enough to keep her away. he linger near the window, finding it easier to look out upon the city; he's apathetic to the view he's met with, especially when she's far more beautiful, but at least it doesn't hurt nearly as much this way. at least it's easier to breathe.
he makes the mistake of catching a glimpse of his reflection in the glass, and the battered sight he'd met with nearly makes him sick. of course she wouldn't love him; he's horrifically scarred, the damage running far deeper than skin. although her admission should suggest otherwise to him, he only laughs, the sound bitter, broken. ]
Uh, okay? [ he lies somewhere between confused and careless, barely registering the possibility that perhaps she came here alone because her date wasn't him, the very same way he wouldn't go home with another girl, because they wouldn't be her. ]
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no subject
it's not just about what i want, ace.
[ maybe it's cruel of her, to have allowed another to wrap their arms at her waist where he could see, to try and convince herself that it was okay, that any part of her deserves to be forgiven even if she didn't really do anything wrong. she's too used to it, giving in to the pressures around her, by her classmates, her father. ]
will you come to the hotel?
no subject
[ he's growing tired of this. the sneaking around, the lying, the pretending that the other means nothing more to him than just a body, one he succumbs to so often only out of convenience. despite forming a hardened exterior after the fire that took most of his family, there's still something inside his chest, and it's aching, burning for something more. the rational side of him recognizes that it's is fault as much as it is hers; neither of them had to give in to each other. if only they hadn't, they wouldn't be here. wanting to be together, forced to be apart.
if only he were smarter, he'd end it here. he wouldn't give in, wouldn't show up at that hotel. he'd do what they should have done long ago. but his intelligence only lies in academics, it seems, as the engine of his car roars to life. ]
fine. whatever. i'll be there in ten.
no subject
right now the less she said, the better. even with words welling beneath her tongue in waiting, causing heart to thud a bit flightier than usual. ]
okay. room 113, i'll call the front to let them know you're coming.
[ the security of luxury. ]
no subject
it doesn't take long at all to end up in front of hotel room door, hand hovering just above the knob, gaze lingering on his own bruised knuckles. never before has he hesitated to slip into a room with her. once upon a time, it had been an escape for him-- being with her. now, it only leaves him feeling more empty than before, though he hadn't known he had anything left in him to take. finally, the knob turns and he steps inside, scarred countence absent of usual conceited smirk. ]
let me guess; he couldn't last more than two minutes so you need more.
no subject
when she sees him, there isn't the usual smirk on his lips nor hers, and he looks... tired. sad, even, in a boyish way she isn't familiar with. she has seen a slight preview of the vulnerability that lay beneath the scarred boy, but he never let her in for long. she supposes she hasn't opened up much, either. they were both to blame. and yet here they stood, a tension between them as if hatred had bloomed itself between the cracks of their lust.
she shuts the door and quietly ticks the lock into place, drawing a slow, silent sigh at his comment. he's said far worse, but she hadn't invited him here to fight. ]
He didn't come up. [ voice uncharacteristically soft, lingerings of a glow still along her cheekbones from the evening's makeup. she clears her throat, wrapping a single arm around her front. ] I came here alone.
no subject
he makes the mistake of catching a glimpse of his reflection in the glass, and the battered sight he'd met with nearly makes him sick. of course she wouldn't love him; he's horrifically scarred, the damage running far deeper than skin. although her admission should suggest otherwise to him, he only laughs, the sound bitter, broken. ]
Uh, okay? [ he lies somewhere between confused and careless, barely registering the possibility that perhaps she came here alone because her date wasn't him, the very same way he wouldn't go home with another girl, because they wouldn't be her. ]
So, what the fuck does that have to do with me?