#【ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ɪт ɑʟʟ ᴜᴘ ɪғ ɪ сᴏᴜʟᴅ тɑкᴇ ɪт ɑᴡɑʏ │loved ones】

[misfortuning]

who was your first love and what happened if you aren't still together

       His first love. It sounds so cliché, such a feeble term. Inadequate. Still, the memories hit him, nothing like a punch; the hole’s already in his chest and he’s standing on the edge, made the mistake of looking down. 

       (She’d sat quiet, out of place, silence deafening around them; she’d laughed, not loud, violet eyes and sharp teeth and soft smile—it wasn’t long after that she ate his heart, and he let her, gladly.       But too soon they were careless, life was cruel, love for fools. He’d knelt in the dirt beneath the sun and said her name like a prayer into the loudest sort of silence, over the still-warm body in his arms that wasn’t her, where was she—no, where was he?       And later, later nights, moonless skies and open eyes and silent breathing, was her heart still beating? Were miracles in godless times just curses in disguise? He cursed god, suffocating, and didn’t know who he hated more so he kept burning, burning. The gunpowder on his hands caught fire and smoke filled his lungs.       Too late he realized he hadn’t changed one bit, was still a fool, was worse—too late he realized he was the curse. Like a forbidden fruit revenge tasted so sweet, poison syrup in his throat as he watched her fall, no one to catch her, where was he? Where was he?        He would have buried himself with her, only the grave was still empty.) 

       “…Gwyn. She died.” It’s been a long time since, but—his “first”? His only.

[misfortuning]

more,

[misfortuning]

((tag dump pt 2))