ava-blake-blog1

[ava-blake-blog1]

elysianautumn:

                  Nervous wouldn’t even really begin to describe it, not unless nervous was the new word for an array of somewhat negative, perplexed emotions. Every year, Nate’s dad insisted they keep the tradition alive— that they all get together for the summer, at the lake house. He’d take Elle there and sleep with her in the room Nate’s mom had picked out and decorated a long, long time ago. Eight years later, and Nate still wasn’t alright with it. He’d gotten used to the blonde being around, but he didn’t like her, nor accept her as a part of their family. Maybe it was petty of him, but how was he supposed to accept her as a ‘stepmom’ when she was only five years older than him— only a year older than his older sister? It was a question he asked himself every holiday he went back home or every summer when he went here, but it was the first time his train of thought had been interrupted, and for a second… He was grateful.

                 Dark eyes abandoned the road in favor of the brunette in the passenger seat, finding it both incredibly odd and reassuring at the same time, having her there. He couldn’t explain it— they weren’t friends, they were roommates, yet sometimes that even seemed like too kind of a term for them, but then once in a blue moon, he was reminded of what they had once had— the friendship, the kinship no one understood but the two of them. To his dismay, something like that would always linger, which was the only reason why she was able to tell he was nervous simply by glancing down at his knuckles on the steering wheel. No one but her could tell, and he resented her for it in that moment ( and subsequently felt bad for resenting her ).

                               “No,” he said, loosening his grip.

                   The car slowed a little at the same time, his foot on the gas mirroring the tight grip he’d held on the steering wheel. The physical change in the car’s pace prompted him to clear his throat and divert the attention, to feel like less of a fraud, he supposed. “I’m just still pissed that it took that long to get through security at the airport— it was a fucking domestic flight,” he scoffed, swiping his thumb under his nose like an absentminded reflex. It was pathetic, but all he really wanted was to reach over and squeeze her hand— he had no real idea why, but the urge was like lead in his chest, heavy and present and very hard to ignore, which only agitated him further.

                       The last time she had been in the presence of his family had been a long time ago, and though Ava tried to put on a frustratingly apathetic front when it came to a lot of things involving Nathan, part of her truly hoped that his family still carried some sort of torch for her, even if it was the mere dying wick of a candle. Would they know about their falling out? Would they resent her for it? Would they even know at all? She hated the fact that she was so worried about it, and most of all, she hoped that maybe they used to. Before everything.

                      And yet, at the same time, she found herself ready to throw that out the window if it meant sticking by and up for Nathan, especially when it came to what she assumed was a present tension between him and his ‘step mom’, which was the most conflicting feeling of them all. It was as if there was some unspoken agreement made between the two of them. A promise. A promise that meant the two would act as pillars for each other, a system of support, a safe haven of sorts, like they had been to each other once upon a time. Ava looked away, eyes shutting tightly momentarily at the thought. She was wrong. That wasn’t how it worked. Not anymore. 

                                  She tried to disperse the thought, the feelings, to no avail. 

                     “Sure,” she murmured coolly, tone almost sardonic as she kept her gaze out the window when looking at him became too much. “Whatever you say.” The need to reach out to him was on its way to becoming involuntary. The urge to simply brush her fingers against his own, nimble fingers soothing whitened knuckles with tender touch, was teetering on the edge of painful to restrain. She rested her arm on the rest between the driver and passenger, fist clenched involuntarily, a deep breath hissing between her teeth. “Just. If you... If you do decide to make some type run for it when we’re there, promise me that you won’t just storm out and leave me behind, alright? If things ever get too heated, and you need some air, just--- just don’t forget me... Okay?”

[ava-blake-blog1]

@elysianautumn

                                       “You’re nervous.”

                  Caramel hues drifted back out the window once her soft-spoken tone resonated her thoughts aloud, eyes idly watching the tree line melt into one long pine-coloured swipe of a painter’s brush. It was the first couple of words breathed into the ether for the first time in a while. Not that it needed to be; their silences were never uncomfortable. They were charged, reflective, full. What an odd sensation for two souls who ‘detested’ each other so.

                   Ava was anxious too. Her fingers couldn’t stop moving, twitching, wringing in and out of each other with her tiny hands tangled in her lap. Maybe she shouldn’t have commented for the sake of feeling like a hypocrite herself, but her eyes couldn’t help but steel glances at his dark, pensive, brooding profile. To him, given their relationship, the observation spoken aloud probably sounded like some passive aggressive attack, but it wasn’t meant to be. She hated that it was bred out of worry more than anything, so the swift and subtle turn of her head to train her gaze out the window was more of a defensive mechanism than anything. Nate couldn’t see the way her brows brunched together, the way her doe-eyed gaze became clouded with betraying concern. He just couldn’t. So the next time she spoke, she wasn’t looking at him, in fear of her emotions betraying her, and the raven-haired boy catching that look in her eyes.

                    “Your grip on the wheel. Your knuckles are white. You’re nervous.”

[ava-blake-blog1]

It’s very strange that the people you love are often the people you’re most cruel to.

Kenneth Branagh (via thelovejournals)

[ava-blake-blog1]

Bon Iver - The Wolves

[ava-blake-blog1]

A lot of people think that I’m a really angry person. ‘Do you enjoy anything? Do you like anything? Are you happy about anything?’ Yes, I am! But I don’t tweet about it. People don’t rally in the streets to engage in happiness. People talk about things they’re unsatisfied with.