mattindies

[mattindies]

WHO? ME? IS THERE ANOTHER MATT? WHO?

I just wanted to express how thankful I am for having known Matt. It was time well cherished. Even though we don’t speak anymore or even hold a friendship with each other, the conversations are still missed. I still wonder if this half empty feeling will remain inside me forever, and even then, I don’t want it to go. Cause it’s the only memory I’d have of him that tells me that I’m still in love with him. Even though I’d probably spend years to come telling myself that I don’t…

[mattindies]

Take my head ‘cause it’s what I want

I wanna fall asleep with the tv on,

and let the house burn down till it’s gone with me inside.

Cut my brain into hemispheres

I want to smash my face until it's nothing but ears

I want to paint my drain with a little red stain tonight

[mattindies]

i miss you

WELP.

This is a post in which Bri feels too much so she writes and gushes about how full her heart is.

[mattindies]

wanna die.

It's 2:06pm on Friday the 30th. You're passed out on the bed and I can't stop looking over at you. I finally had to get up and start cleaning the room in order to stop myself from waking you up just because I want a kiss. 2:07pm. You're still asleep. I keep walking over to you. Pressing my lips against your cheekbone, your forehead, your neck. Softly, obviously, so you won't wake up. 2:08pm. I love you. I've always loved you. I'll always love you.

omfg>??Jkshdskja43yuketwyuqya????hi

[mattindies]

Now you're fucking gone. You're gone, and I want to die.

Æ

Nothing is going to top the answer that I had the first time, before I lost the entire thing in a horrible WiFi accident. But I’m going to do my best to recreate it; especially because you’ve had the shittiest weekend ever and I really need you to have something to smile about when you get home. Also because of this– I’m going to bend the question a bit and instead of writing five facts about you, I’m just going to write. Until I feel like everything I have to say has been said. 

Can we talk about everything you’ve done for me? Honestly. There’s so many things. I’m going to make a list of all that I can think of. Right now.

You bought me my first binder. Even though it was forty dollars. 

You bought me another binder a few months later after that one wore out. 

You went into the men’s restroom with me because I was afraid of being looked at if I went in, but I really had to pee. So you said “they’re not going to be looking at you if I go in, too.” 

You ordered Jimmy John’s to my house because you wanted to. 

You’ve also ordered me pizza’s and pasta and fjgjhdlkhsd.

You got me a Zelda t-shirt for no reason. 

You took me to Olive Garden for my birthday because you know that Italian is my favorite and after that you got me Linkin Park and Sleeping With Sirens t-shirts.

You gave me a sample of your perfume because it’s my favorite scent in the world and you knew that sleeping would be hard after you went home and you didn’t want me to cry but I did anyway.

You and your mom drove five hours to come get me and take me back to your house, only to drive five more hours to take me home and then go back again. 

You got my whole family Christmas gifts. 

(There’s totally more than this but you’re going to be home soon and that fact is making me blank hard core whoops.)

I’d also like to point out that they really love you. 

My dad, who has a hard time loving me, woke up from his before work nap to come push your car out of the mud in the rain, and when he fell he didn’t even get mad. I asked him if you could come in the house when you came here last time and he looked at me like “of course, duh.” My dad doesn’t accept the way that I am. He never has and I don’t think that he will. But you make me happy and I think he appreciates that. 

Hannah doesn’t trust anyone. She’s a lot like I was when I was a teenager, but less violent. She didn’t throw desks at people for being shit heads. She just takes it and moves on. She sees you as a big sister. Something I could never be. She constantly wants to go shopping with you. She asks me to ask you for advice because even now, after all this time, she thinks she bothers you. She can be a real jerk, and I know how you feel about that, but she’s never said anything bad about you and she’s always telling people how pretty and nice you are and that she actually really likes you and I don’t ever want you to forget that.

Which brings me to Lisa. Who refers to you as, not Brianna, but Sil. Because sister-in-law. It took her a few months to get a feel for you, but now she knows that you’re not going anywhere and that you’re the best person for me and she considers you part of the family. Like my mom, who calls you her daughter. You got them all to see me as I am, not as they want me to be. You’re the reason my mom started calling me Matt everywhere but around my dad. At first it was only to respect you, and our relationship, but you helped her realize a lot of things about herself and that’s a huge part of why she calls me her son now. Lisa knows that I love you. She knows that you know me better than anyone else ever could and instead of being upset and feeling like you’re taking a position that used to be hers (the one I confided in, and the one I went to when something was wrong) she’s happy for me. She’s happy that you exist. 

Don’t get me started on Ryan. You’ve been around for most of his life. He was one when we started talking and he’s going to be three in twenty days. You’re his Brianna. He gets so excited when you call me because he sees your contact photo and he drops everything he’s doing to talk to you. He just falls into you. You calmed him down when he was so scared to go to bed that he physically got sick. He would only lay down if he could see you. So I held my phone in one hand and him in my other arm and you talked to him and the sound of your voice was enough to get him to stop crying. You do the same thing for me. Also because when we took him out to eat, you were the only one he wanted to take him to the bathroom (three times). Not that I was complaining. 

My point is that you’re so loved here. There are so many people that I didn’t list that are thankful for you. You are my best best friend. You see everything. Things that I don’t show anyone else. I feel safe with you. Safe enough that I gave you all I had in the world, even though you could have thrown it away. You didn’t though. You stayed when you had every right in the world to leave. Even after I pushed you away and made you cry and acted like I didn’t want you or didn’t care about what happened with us. You returned every phone call. Sometimes you hadn’t received one in months. You replied to every text message. I ignored yours a lot. I fucked you up because I got you to love me and then I ran away. I thought that talking to other girls would fill the void and after I noticed that I couldn’t stop comparing them to you; it hit me that it was because they weren’t you. They didn’t tell me stupid jokes to get me to laugh and their eyes didn’t light up like your smile did and when they said hi it wasn’t in your voice and that fucked me up. I couldn’t get that feeling back when it was with somebody else. I pushed you away because I was afraid to love and I was afraid to let anyone else love me. Giving people the option to stick around wasn’t something I did. I used to do that all the time and every person I needed in the world didn’t need me. So I stopped caring too much. I stopped caring completely. I pushed you away because you made me feel again and you made me love you and I couldn’t let you break me so I had to break you. I’ve thought about what I would do if I could go back and change the way I treated you. I used to say that I’d change it all. But if I did that would we even be here now? I can’t regret things anymore. There’s not enough time in the world for that. I love you more than all of the freckles on your face. Do you not know how much you deserve that? You took someone that was completely broken down and you took the time to piece them back together and this is the result of that. 

And while I’m here; I’m going to tell you just how fucking proud of you I am. Because holy damn. You blow my mind. 

You are twenty years old. Okay? You’re a lil baby butterfly. You’ve had the same job since June of 2014. Within that time you went from a barista, to a shift leader, to a PERColator (which is like an assistant manager of sorts), to a store leader, and now your boss is talking to you about being a regional manger??? That’s skipping a step entirely. You get so fogged up sometimes, and think that you’re no good, but how can that be true when you’re here. You’re where other people want to be. You’re brilliant and talented and you play guitar just as beautifully as you write and when you sing it makes my entire soul do a crazy thing and you come back so quickly with everything you say and I don’t understand how you could ever think that you’re anything less than amazing. 

You’re my favorite person. That never changes. It doesn’t matter if we get annoyed with each other or if you want to choke me seven times out of ten because I’m ridiculous; I don’t stop loving you the way that I do now. I don’t see you any differently. I don’t wish I were anywhere else or with anyone else and I can’t tell you enough that you’re the girl I’m going to marry. Even if your ring is 15,000 dollars. We can go where ever you want to go. You can be anything in this world and I will support you. I’ll be there through every change; good and bad. I’m not any of those other people you’ve dated. I could never be what they were to you, whether that was nothing or everything. But I can be your best best friend, too. 

And to answer the actual question; here are your five facts.

Your eyes are actually three different colors. Dark blue, lighter blue, and yellow around the middle. 

You were super popular in high school. Like, super fucking popular. You were Homecoming Queen and a cheerleader for years and that makes me really happy idk. 

Your voice is beautiful. I said that somewhere up there but you don’t understand the extent of this. You don’t sing around people like you used to. It took you months to be able to sing in front of me. But you’ve got the kind of talent that needs to be seen everywhere. I wish it was seen everywhere. 

You’re such a smartass. I can’t even finish my sentence sometimes because you already have your comeback and it leaves me sitting there like ???. Not only that, but you’ve never been fake about anything. In fact; you’re so blunt and honest with people while still being the sweetest girl in the world. 

Which brings me to my last fact. You could kick my ass if you wanted to. You give off that vibe. The whole I’ll be your best friend in the world but I’ll also make you dig your own grave with a plastic knife vibe. It’s kind of a last resort thing. You’re protective. If you feel as though someone else is crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed; you do something about it. Without physically hurting them. I don’t really know how it works. My first instinct is to put someone through a wall and yours is to politely reevaluate their lives for them. I just think you’re a badass and I’d totally want to be your friend if you weren’t already my friend. 

Anyway, I’m going to post this now before something happens and I lose the thing again. I hope it made you smile at least a little bit. !!! :D:D:D

[mattindies]

“You’re my brother, bro.” “You’re my brother, bro.” 

@holdenevns

[mattindies]

TEXTS ✉ BROMEO O BROMEO

Holden: Bro.

Brendan: Yeah bro?

[mattindies]

Old Character Master list

I know I’m missing some, but here is my collection.

Note: I’ve reused names and backstories for a few of them. Many dark plots, a lot of sad times, miniscule moderate amounts of fluff. Different assholes for different reasons. 

Lastly, I just want to say it. I know the things I’ve written, and I am unashamed slightly ashamed. Was it strange? Absolutely. Would I do it again? No, probably not.

IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR IN DEPTH EXAMPLES OF MY WRITING, PLEASE CHECK OUT CHRISTIAN, MICHAEL, AND DAMIEN.

Chord Overstreet FC --

Sam Evans -- The one and only time, ever. AU.

Chris Colfer FC --

Alec Hummel -- Turned into Taylor Hummel. 

Brandon Hummel -- Favorite. 

Darren Hummel 

Dylan Hummel 

Dylan Hummel

Dylan Hummel -- Favorite.

Dylan Hummel

Dylan Hummel -- Original Account. Oof.

Draven Hummel -- 1x1.

Draven Hummel -- 1x1.

Ian Hummel -- Favorite.

Kilor Hummel -- First ever multiple character, lost old pages.

Kilor Hummel

Jason Hummel -- Favorite.

Taylor Hummel -- Favorite.

Trevor Hummel -- Turned into Brandon Hummel.

Darren Criss FC --

Austin Anderson -- Original Account. 

Austin Anderson 

Cole Anderson -- Original Account. 

Cole Anderson 

Cole Anderson

Cole Anderson -- 1x1.

Dreyton Anderson

Dreyton Chambers / Anderson

Logan Anderson -- 1x1. Turned into Cole Anderson.

Grant Gustin FC --

Alexandre Smythe

Braden Smythe

Brendon Smythe

Brian Smythe -- Turned into Damien Smythe.

Brighton Smythe

Bryson Smythe

Carter Smythe -- Favorite.

Christian Smythe -- Favorite. Most recent played in a group.

Cole Smythe

Damien Smythe -- Favorite.

Noah Smythe

Michael Smythe -- Original Account. Favorite.

Michael Smythe

Sebastian Smythe -- First attempt. AU.

Sebastian Smythe -- Sebastian with a twist. AU.

Shawn Smythe

Ryan Smythe

Xavier Smythe

Matthew Stokes -- Sad, meta, but favorite.

[mattindies]

hey fammo. i haven’t been online in a long ass time but i want to write some of these characters again really badly. so, if anyone out there would enjoy plotting and being buds, feel free to message me even if we’ve never talked before. okay cool. have a good day.

[mattindies]

Send "Flashback" to have your muse see one of my muse's bad memories

[mattindies]

REBLOG if you understand that partners lose bonds with your muse & your arcs together. So: you won’t pressure, annoy, berate, or hound them until/if they come back.

This is a promise that THIS mun understands muses and arcs go dead and it’s OK to move on! You can always tell this mun directly, but understand this is a:  [ NO PRESSURE ZONE ON THIS BLOG!!! ]

[mattindies]

open starter for ;; love the way you lie.

-- 🚫 Carter could see even from a distance that there was one more person than he invited to hang out. Narrowing his eyes, he took one last drag from his cigarette and put it out on the bottom of his shoe. He wasn’t a nice guy to anyone - not his girlfriend, not his best friend, not even himself. That’s why it stumped him to notice an unfamiliar face sitting at their table. 

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t amazing in conversation, especially with someone he didn’t know. The group of people Carter considered his companions -- it took them an incredibly long time to surpass the outer most layer of his once intangible shell. He didn’t know what they were thinking, but it made him want to get back in his truck and go somewhere else. 

❝ The fuck is this? ❞ He questioned upon entering the diner. Carter would have cared regardless, but it would have been less of an altercation if he had known someone else was tagging along. He slid into his usual spot, eyeing his friends closely. Carter wasn’t the type to mind if he hurt someone’s feelings. If he was uncomfortable; there was no hiding it. His buddies didn’t get any special treatment. After a minute or two of silence and blank expressions, Carter pulled a bag from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. ❝ I don’t fuck with new people, and I don’t want to share my drugs with you. ❞

[mattindies]

“We’re gonna get shanked. It’s dark and cold and we’re going to die.” IDK WHAT MUSE. WHATEVER INSPO U HAVE. kitty/scooby/betty/random oc/do it up!

“We’re gonna get shanked. It’s dark and cold and we’re going to die.”

– 💪 ❝ RELAX. ❞ Landon smiled, peering down the alleyway. They definitely should have taken another route, but he decided without hearing much of Cher’s opinion that this would be faster and he wanted to get home in time for dinner and a snack.  ❝ The only real thing we have to worry about is this damn ass rain soaking through our shoes and into our socks – that’s a problem. I’d get shanked before I had wet socks. No doubt. ❞ Admittedly, there was a sinister feeling in the air. The idea that someone could potentially be watching them; the sudden spark of a challenge; Landon was prepared to throw hands at any second. With his arm now hovering in front of Cher’s body as if to offer a form of protection; Landon turned his head back to face her. ❝ If anyone pops out with a shiv, I got you. Don’t you worry your precious little baby head. ❞

[mattindies]

!!! (any muses, any verse)

Send “!!!” for my muse to jump out from behind a corner, trying to startle your muse.

— 💥 It was almost six o’clock when Scrappy started on his way home.

He spent the better half of the day shopping online at the library, due to being grounded from the computer at home for ordering a pizza at school. It’s not that Scrappy hated being at his house – he was just bored there. He wanted to go out and explore, have adventures, meet new people. They wanted him to do his homework, keep his room clean, do the laundry. It was disappointing for a boy who was weeks away from being eighteen.

In order to get out of the house; Scrappy told his parents that he was going to apply for another job and that he would be back before dinner, so he knew that he’d have plenty of time to kill without anyone being on his ass about something. “Skylar, have you taken a shower today? – Skylar, did you take out the trash this morning? – Skylar, please take this pie over to Nancy’s house and tell her thank you for the pot roast.”

The day hadn’t been bad. He ate two Quesaritos from Taco Bell; he got a number from a cute girl that noticed his car, and he found a custom made Spongebob fidget spinner that brought tears to his eyes. He wasn’t yet prepared to go home and sit around the dining table with people who just chew and don’t talk about anything.

He was leaving the store when someone came out from behind the car to the left of his. Their light touch on his back and the BOO that came before it resulted in a very shrill scream from Scrappy, the bags in his hands falling from his grasp.

❝ NO! ❞ He shouted, eyes wide, arms flailing. Betrayal. That’s the look that was spread across Scrappy’s face. ❝ Fred! That was so RUDE. ❞  Letting out an overly dramatic sigh, Scrappy bent over to grab his groceries from the ground. He had a box of honey buns, now slightly smashed on one corner; a jumbo box of crayons, and a tiny mouse toy with a string attached, but now it felt sad to Scrappy. ❝ UuuuuGHHH. That was a toy for my bird, Loftwing! He was gonna be so excited – I can’t believe you. ❞ In hindsight; Scrappy wasn’t mad at Fred for scaring the life out of him. He was disappointed that his good friend would put his heart at risk like that, but he was even more disappointed that Fred got him. Now he needed to put a new prank into action; without the older male finding out, pronto. He folded his arms over his chest and shifted his weight as a grin began to tug on the corners of his lips. Slowly, he shook his head. ❝ I’m late for dinner. I’m telling my mom that it’s your fault. ❞

[mattindies]

💎

Send 💎 for my muse’s reaction to yours stealing something precious from them.

– ☠ Shane has always been a people watcher.

He notices everything all the time, but nobody notices him.

❝ What are you doing? ❞ He chimed from behind Harlow Avery. His voice was calm, he was smiling. ❝ I see you’ve got something in your hand. Does it belong to you? ❞ It was an old silver pocket watch with the initials ‘SBS’ carved into the back of it. His eyes fell toward it, his smirk fading. –

“You don’t deserve this watch.” Shane Byington Jr. sneered at his son, holding the watch above his head. “But for some reason, your grandfather wants you to have it.” Swinging it forward; the watch collided with Shane’s nose, causing it to pour blood. “Look – see what the fuck you did now? You got blood all over my dad’s watch!” Big hands found their way around Shane’s small frame, forcing him back into the wall. “Say it. You don’t deserve this fucking watch.”

– Without giving her much time to answer; Shane grabbed the watch out of her hand and leaned in close. ❝ It is extremely ill-mannered to take things that aren’t yours. I hope you understand this. ❞ He dropped the watch into the back pocket of his faded blue jeans. Pasting a rather eerie grin onto his face, he met Harlow’s gaze. ❝ Next time you touch my shit; I’ll shove it down your throat. ❞ He adjusted his jacket, turned on his heels, and walked away.

“I don’t deserve this fucking watch.”

[mattindies]

alyindies:

     — 📝  work was always absolutely exhausting, especially when coming off of a long day in classes. grad school was proving to be JUST as difficult as he’d imagined, though the scheduling even harder to handle. when he wasn’t sitting in class - staring glassy-eyed at the professor - or standing over a hot line of food and bubbling oil, dexter was sitting at his desk with only the light of a small lamp glowing above him as he continued working on his final project. he was a first year grad in a two year program and the ENTIRETY of their first year was spent building up the novel that would be up for publication at the end of their second year - in which they spent the entirety of two semesters picking apart their own work and that of others in fine detail. 

             finding time to spend with chris and ben was a nightmare lately. he’d known them long enough to have actually spent time with them before the start of the MONSTROSITY that was his life at the moment, but he still didn’t like how little he actually got to see them anymore. he missed being able to cross the hall every night and spend his evening with a sheet tied around his neck, jumping up and down on the couch and pretending to fly. or taking ben to the comic book store down the street and letting him pick WHATEVER he wanted off the shelf. or falling asleep watching movies with chris and waking up wrapped up in blankets with a plate of pancakes resting on his chest. outside of his brother, chris and ben were the closest family that dex HAD and one that he would do anything for. and he was pretty sure that he loved chris, even if it didn’t seem like it would ever go anywhere or develop into anything outside of what they already had going on.

             laid out across his bed, half asleep with an issue of the flash laying open on his chest and flannel pajama pants on, dex dozed. it wasn’t late, but he’d ACTUALLY had a day off from work and was able to come home after class. he’d hoped to get caught up on some reading and maybe pop on over to visit with ben, but his exhaustion was taking hold much more quickly than he’d thought it would. the sound of his front door opening barely triggered anything in him, and he only made any sign of life when he heard a resounding ❝ Pasta! ❞ and realized chris was over. dex groaned sliding the comic off of his chest and down onto his comforter. ❝ outSTANDING? ❞ he questioned from his place in bed, loudly enough to be heard from the other room. standing up, he shuffled out into the living room, the hems of his flannel pants dragging under his feet and arms in the air stretching the sleep from his body. ❝ lemme see. ❞ dex reached for the paper as he sat next to chris and sunk into his side. ❝ this is the BEST thing i’ve ever seen in my ENTIRE life. ben is a fucking artist. ❞

-- ✌ Being in a relationship with someone for five years and having a child with them is a good reason to believe that you’re where you need to be in your life. You have everything you want right in front of you, and nothing else matters. Chris would never have believed it if someone came up to him and said he’d be the greatest dad a kid could ever ask for. In high school, he was a completely different version of who he is now. He was loud, obnoxious, craving even the worst types of attention. He just wanted to be noticed. When he met Taylor; he was caught in a downward spiral that he couldn’t gain control of. She sat with him when nobody else wanted to. She picked up all of the broken, scattered pieces that he'd never find on his own. She made him feel like he was good enough; like he was somehow deserving of somebody so beautiful. She got him to open up. He discovered new talents, new passions, new desires. He created goals that used to feel unreachable. With Taylor; his happiness was intangible. They were going to be together forever -- everybody believed it. 

When Kylee came into the world; Chris was but a child himself. Terrified that he’d goof up, terrified that he wouldn’t have the answers he needed. It was because of Taylor that he truly believed he was incapable of failure when it came to their daughter, despite his fears and insecurities. He loved both of them so much; more than anything the light would ever touch. Chris thought he had it all. He was going to be successful; they all were. Kylee was eighteen months old when Taylor began cheating on Chris. Finding out about her other relationships -- mainly sexual, it killed him. He had to put their child to sleep and then lay beside her in their bed, knowing she didn’t love him anymore, knowing she didn’t love their family like she used to, knowing that every day she spent with them was only for show. It took everything inside of him to confront her, to end their relationship because he had grown so much and he saw nothing but good things for their future until now, and he was absolutely hopeless. Shortly before Kylee’s second birthday, Chris found the courage to break things off with Taylor. He told her that he loved her and that he hated it. He told her that he was sorry for wasting her time. She packed her things and left that night, making no attempt to comfort their child, knowing she had no plans to see either of them again despite the time they had together. Chris was left alone in their apartment to raise his daughter and he had no choice but to be okay with that. 

Kylee was two years old the first time she told Chris she was a boy. He was shaving his face in the bathroom when she stood on the toilet and asked how long it would take for her hairs to start growing like his. Kylee was three years old when she began demanding to be called a boy, saying that her hair was too long and she didn’t feel happy in her pink room or her pink clothes. She started fighting Chris on anything and everything that was considered girly. She didn’t want to be called Kylee. She didn’t want to be called she, or his daughter. She became hysterical, asking Chris why he was allowed to be a boy, but she wasn’t? Without Taylor there for guidance; Chris turned to his brother, Andrew. The two had their differences growing up, but ultimately they were best friends, and if anyone had an open mind, it was his twin. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much at all for Andrew to convince Chris to let Kylee be a boy if that’s what she wanted to be. Her entire life; she’s favored hot wheels and legos over dolls and dressing up. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it if things didn’t work out the way they did. He went home that night after doing two hours worth of research, and he decided that his kid was going to be happy no matter the cost. Kylee was four years old when he became Benjamin. Chris took him to get his hair cut. He took him to get new clothes. He spent a few days with his Uncle Andrew while Chris painted and redecorated his room. He had his name and gender changed legally, and ever since, Ben has been nothing less than Christian’s son. He is his pride and joy. He is his reason for waking up and getting dressed day after day. It’s been difficult to raise Ben without a mother, but he hasn’t been raising him alone because not long after his son transitioned, he met the love of his life at a comic book store. 

Two years of nights spent together, making plans, having dinner -- it’s not quite possible to comprehend how Chris hasn’t realized his feelings yet, but they’re there, and even Ben knows it. Upon hearing Dexter’s voice, Chris lit up. He hadn’t seen him all day. He knew he was probably busy, and he knew that he, himself, was busy, but he still wanted to make time for his best friend. As soon as he saw his face; he felt warm, like the biggest, softest blanket in the world had just covered him. ❝ You look so tired. ❞ He moved over slightly, making enough room for Dexter to lay if he wanted to. Instinctively, Chris wrapped his arm around his waist. It was like he wanted him to feel warm, too. This was different than it was with Taylor. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t put his finger on it. He only had one idea of what love was, and he believed he let it slip through his hands all of those years ago. What he failed to understand was that what he had with her; it was nothing like love. She wasn’t a blessing like he thought she was. She was a lesson. Taylor was meant to teach him something, and she did. He got to know himself inside and out because of her. He got to become who he is today -- successful, just like he always wanted to be. Chris would love Dexter so much better than he ever loved Taylor if only he would realize that love is what he felt for him. ❝ You should hang it on your fridge. ❞ He said in regards to the picture after a moment of absentmindedly staring at Dexter in his cute flannel pajamas. This could be so easy. He could wake up every morning next to this guy and never feel sleepy again. Ben would have double the love, double the support, all the time. But it wasn’t that easy. Chris was too afraid of losing everything they had to risk exploring what the thoughts in his head meant. So he pushed them down, down, down. ❝ How was your day? Have you eaten? I can make you food right here, right now. Or I can carry you back to bed because you’re exhausted and I know you were sleeping before I showed up out of the blue uninvited. ❞

[mattindies]

anaindies:

she sat with bare feet propped on the coffee table, her hands full of polish, the cigarette at her lips dropping ash into a tray balanced precariously on her thighs. carter had disappeared hours earlier, and–perfect girlfriend she was–lark had seized the opportunity to dirty the place without abandon in his absence. they hadn’t argued, so she would clean it up this time. but a lot could be said for how it felt to trash the place, especially when she spent so very much of her time keeping it spotless for her boyfriend’s peace of mind. 

she was in the painstaking process of painting over her chipped, toenail polish when the phone vibrated beside her. maury had just come back from a commercial break to announce that jordan was NOT the father of four year old, diamond and elize had taken off running… ignoring the call, she joined the crowd in cheering a grieving mother out and into the studio’s lot, and it was only after the woman had collapsed, sobbing, onto the outskirts that lark looked instead to her messages. 

‘fart face 💗 ’ didn’t often call her while he was away. anxious as she was to keep tabs, he preferred radio silence. a year’s time together had dulled some of the panic that went hand in hand with this disconnect – she was trying her best to be better, after all – but she still couldn’t bring herself to stop logging his whereabouts via find my iphone. it hadn’t come in handy too much. a handful of times she had used it to tail him, and test his faithfulness. on three separate occasions, she had caught him smoking WITHOUT her, but mostly she had watched him skate from afar with the kind of misty, faraway look in her eyes she made fun of people for. for the most part, it helped: knowing where he was, what he was doing. he must’ve known as much too, because he had kept the phone even after putting two and two together. and as much as she hated him sometimes, she appreciated him and his patience ( though she would often wear it thin, she knew ) just as much.

———which was exactly why lark had rolled a spliff, packed her polish neatly away, and thrown out the butts she had left in the tray before tracking him down, no questions asked. and, too, why she remained silent while he climbed painfully into the passenger seat upon her arrival. they had even been driving for close to TEN minutes – a new record for her – when, unable to hold it any longer, she slammed the brakes and pulled the car to the curb. ❝ okay, what the fuck ? ❞ she grabbed at the cigarette carton in the console, handing it off and craning forward to see the full extent of his injuries. ❝ seriously, carter. what the fuck. ❞

-- 🚫 EYES GLUED SHUT, gathering racing thoughts, calming shaky breaths. -- Carter dared not to look at Lark as he leaned back in the passenger seat and attempted to bury all of the memories from today. It was impossible. Every time he took air into his lungs, he could feel the blows all over again. Fists to his face, feet to his stomach, body to the pavement. The embarrassment was worse than anything else. How could Carter let shame leak into his bloodstream? It was a never ending sensation of being stabbed in the chest, and the knife was only going deeper because his girlfriend went out of her way to help him when more often than not, he treated her like shit. There was guilt on top of fear, something Carter never allowed himself to feel; especially not in front of anyone else. He knew it was coming; the looks; the questions. He could feel the anxiety building up with each second that crept by, crawling like ants beneath his skin. He curled his fingers around his arm and gave it a tight squeeze, hoping it would bring the calm he so desperately craved. Instead, it brought a storm, and when Lark slammed on the breaks; Carter flew forward and smacked into the dashboard. 

❝ What the fuck? ❞ Carter repeated back to Lark, wrapping his arms around his chest as if to hold himself together. He wasn’t angry about busting his shit a second ago -- it was his own fault, the danger seeking boy never wore a seatbelt. He was angry that she asked, even though he knew she would, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Instead of speaking, Carter glared a hole right through Lark. He took the carton of cigarettes from her hand and considered lighting one, knowing it would burn him, partially wanting it to, but rather than thanking her for the gesture he decided to put it back where it was in the console. Communication was seldom between them. He listened to her vent or rant on most of the time, but he never wanted to open up to her in return. He could imagine how frustrating it must have been; giving your all to someone who doesn’t ordinarily act like they like you. In his defense, Lark wasn’t always the nicest to him, either. But here she was, rescuing him, waiting for him despite his several attempts to shut her out. He pushed his luck time and time again because he knew she’d always come back. He knew that no matter how many punches and harsh words were thrown, at the end of the day; Lark was his. Carter was messed up. He was selfish. He was a human trash can at best, and she still wanted to be with him. He frequently thought about how silly it seemed. Surely, Carter was not worth the sweat, the blood, or the tears. He wasn’t worth the fights and sleepless nights. He didn’t deserve to lay next to her, but God, he wanted to, even if he didn’t know why.

How AWFUL it must have been for Carter to have someone CARE about him. It’s not like he wasn’t used to the feeling. He had good parents who tried their absolute hardest to raise him and adjust to his abrupt change in personality as he grew older. His father would like to remember him as the happy boy his wife gave birth to, the one they raised for twelve years before he began to disappear. Carter doesn’t know that he prays every night for him to find peace, for him to remember who he used to be -- just like his father doesn’t know that the person he hopes to resurface, he doesn’t exist anymore. MINUTES PASSED IN SILENCE before Carter lifted his gaze from the car radio and brought his attention back to Lark. His injuries were obvious. He didn’t have his skateboard. His eyes were red like he either smoked an ounce to himself or he had been crying for an hour. There was nothing that he could hide; it was all laid out for her to see. His mouth was dry, his head was pounding, all he wanted was to scrub the dirt from his skin, but he was painfully aware that the car would not move until something more was given. Although he considered opening the door, jumping out, and walking home only to meet her on the porch steps; the intense need to escape would dissipate if he would just rip off the band-aid. 

❝ I got jumped. ❞ The words came out in a whisper. ❝ Some dumbass kids showed up out of nowhere and took my board. They probably broke it. ❞ He pressed one hand to his cheek and rested the other over his eyes. The urge to squeeze until he broke his bones was unbelievable, but he didn’t want to lack self-control like he lacked just about everything else. ❝ I don’t want you to feel bad for me. ❞ He spoke between his teeth, behind his fingers he was shielding his face with. He didn’t want sympathy, he wanted revenge. He wanted to hunt them down, make them see that nobody messes with Carter Wolfe and gets away with it, but his ego was wounded and so was his body. He was in no condition to do anything but rest, and he wouldn’t do that while he felt like the world had all but chewed him up and spit him out. ❝ Can we just leave now? ❞ Carter snapped, no longer feeling like he could drag out the conversation. He didn’t want Lark to see him this way, ever. To think that she might now view him as anything less than strong? It made his throat swell, his heart race. ❝ Nothing hurts, and I’m fine, and I want to take a shower more than I want to breathe right now, so. Let’s get on with it. ❞