#sdfgshdf there u go

[pontevoix]

high-winds catch debris & prove that things can get stuck in a cycle. that it is possible for a person to stand at the middle of things & watch omens twist around them like a rope. it is possible to stand in a hurricane, to watch the radar & feel it as everything inevitable. it is the promise of panic, & somewhere it makes it difficult to discern self from storm.

it’s a dramatic thing, to be teenage. it is catastrophe piled up on top of itself at the end of high-speed chase. 

floch felt it like the beginning of the world ( or the end ) every time that eren laughed – breathless & barking. 

eren laughed when the two of them entertained young-blood thrills together: smokes on the fire-escape, driving too fast on a lonely road, standing on top of the world with middle-fingers raised. 

eren laughed when he painted something terrifying enough that it made floch’s heartbeat fucking stutter to a stop. it boiled him hot too, so he sank to his knees. 

as far as he can tell, eren has always painted – but it’s only recently that his art twangs with something familiar. floch can’t recognize it, but it feels like a hurricane. 

eren laughed every time he marveled how he was snagged on the thrill of first love. it was a rush, because eren liked to slide his hand into floch’s back pocket to keep him close. it felt a bit like dangling off the side of something up-high, but it was sweet too -  the way that eren loved him enough to press kisses against his jaw & pretend that he was counting freckles. 

in turn, floch tangled their fingers when he could & soothed himself by listening to the thrum of eren’s life. 

it’s a dramatic thing, to be teenage. but it wasn’t a crime to love like the world is on fire.

floch had always been boyish & boisterous & prone to speaking too loud. eren had liked it about him, liked that floch sometimes laughed at the wrong things, that he snorted when he laughed. 

eren was a rush, & he loved so fiercely that it meant that floch could trust him to like him honestly & like him well. 

consequently, floch always found it difficult to refuse eren or to figure out their trajectory.   

at that time ( almost a year, now ) : floch had agreed so easy through a text he typed with one thumb:  ‘ meet you there x. ‘  

they’d been teetering towards on again, off again, & the need for final answers. 

eren proposed a tempting for an escape, a new life. they would meet at the 7-11 where they always try to buy smokes & instead end up buying root beers – & then they would try for a new start. 

floch’s got a car that he’s still making payments for, but they could drive anywhere & be dramatic.

to his credit, floch did start to pack. he shoved toiletries into a duffle & odds & ends because impulse did not mean strategy. floch held a pen between his teeth & periodically remembered to make an itemized list.

there were four pairs of jeans, seven pairs of socks, his camera that doesn’t have a case or a lens cap, a first aid kid — 

as he packs, a cd plays the red hot chili peppers, or whatever floch had been listening to last. 

the television cracks with the news too, because floch likes it better that way. 

the drone of ongoing things soothes him often. he plays the news when he sleeps, usually.

eren makes fun of him for it but likes him anyway.

floch slips one of eren’s sketchbooks into his backpack, too, & he thinks that maybe he recognizes one of the voices on television – it’s an unconscious recognition that makes him look up towards the television.

a banner at the bottom of the screen names the speaker as erwin smith, a lawyer active in something or another.

high-winds catch debris & prove that things can get stuck in a cycle. that it is possible for a person to stand at the middle of things & watch omens twist around him like a rope.

floch blinks & feels himself in another life holding a blade to the neck of a man that should be dead. erwin smith, the commander, the devil. floch spares his life 

floch blinks, & he’s still holding eren’s sketchbook. he feels himself watching eren as a god. 

floch blinks again & loses time.

eren spends too much time standing outside 7-11, & floch never apologizes.they’d been teetering towards on again, off again, & the need for final answers. 

they’re off. forever, they’re off. 

he has a difficult time responding to eren’s text messages in the aftermath – but then again, he has a difficult time responding to most things. 

eren texts him on an impulse one night, late at night : i hate you. 

he might have been drunk, but floch doesn’t respond to that message either. 

he thinks that eren was likely telling the truth. eren loves intensely because he feels intensely. so love & hate do not become mutually exclusive. they’re just added debris. 

but it does make floch scoff a little more — there’s been too much cynicism accumulating in his veins, & it’s been making him feel cruel. maybe he’s just upset. it’s a dramatic thing, to be teenage. it’s dramatic, too, to step outside of teenage years.

because eren is still a rush – but now floch remembers enough to remember end game. 

eren then had used him as much as he had loved him, & he only loved him because he needed to be loved.

it had been an agreement that the two of them shook hands on. 

so floch doesn’t blame him for warfare; he had been complicit, too. but he knows enough now to understand — eren loves so hard that he is able to convince himself that things would be forever. 

he is the center for gravity. there is more to come for him.

they split ways anyway, hover in different circles. floch never forgets that eren exists, & eren doesn’t remember –

they split ways anyway, & it’s not intentional when floch finds him again, working in a cafe that is too new to be densely populated; a ‘now open!’ sign still hangs from the front door – 

they stare at each other, & floch masks himself fast – saying stupid shit like, ‘ if this is the coronation, i ain't feeling the love. ‘ 

eren shuts down fast, grips a sharpie too hard as he refuses to write down floch’s name on a paper cup. 

there’s not a lot of room for regrets, when you are a hurricane — so floch stares at him hard & can’t decide if he wants the worst for eren, or the best.

he’s like eren, mostly. he feels things too intensely, too. they had always been a little unrestrained together. 

so floch tips well because he thinks that doing so might make eren jump over the counter & throttle him –

& that’s that. the pair of them behave. 

but maybe they only behaved out of respect for coincidence. because they did not intend to see one another, they could pretend that it didn’t matter.

floch apparently loses patience for coincidence, though. he’s still boyish & boisterous & prone to speaking too loud — 

so he shows up to the cafe again. like an asshole, he keeps his sunglasses on even indoors. 

he doesn’t like for people who know him to look at his eyes too closely. 

eren stares at him hard & writes something ugly on a cup before floch gets the chance to speak. ‘ i don’t hate you anymore, ‘ he tells floch.

from @st4rsinclined : i don't hate you anymore, eren & floch

floch doesn’t believe him, really, so he shrugs. 

‘ you’ll hate me as long as you’ll love me, & you’ll love me as long as you hate me. that’s life. get over it. ‘ 

it’s a dramatic thing, to be teenage. but it might be a crime — to love like the world is on fire.

in the meantime, floch taps his credit card against his thigh to disguise his nerves & tells himself that he’s here to return eren’s sketchbook.

maybe he’s here to rekindle war. 

it’s hard to tell.