#i normally write all my fics from third person so this was interestinf

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

This was supposed to be a paragraph long shitpost, but it somehow turned into a full blown drabble, which is mind boggling to me how that happened, haha!

It's unedited, so if there's any punctuation or any other sorts of errors it's cause all I did was write it and post it. I normally only ever write from third person so this was quite interesting!

Sitting with A.xlerod in his car after a drive out to who knows where, maybe there wasn't even a destination, and it's dark outside and really late at night and we're parked outside the building to his flat/apartment and I'm sitting there and he knows something is on my mind and the hum of the car still running is audible and he doesn't say anything he just kinda looks over at me concerned and questioning and I know he's looking over at me and I sigh trying to get the sudden weight off my chest but the more I think about it I can just feel it twist and get a bit worse and there's a sudden straining pain the back of my throat for a few split seconds.

I reach my hand over to the side of the seat and pull back on the lever that leans the seat back and I sit there for a few moments laid back a bit. I know he's still looking at me with a concerned look and I take a deep breath as I'm about to say something, just to have all the words taken right back out of me again. I know this feeling, I feel it time and time again, and I know exactly how it makes me feel and yet there's still no label for it. It's too complex.

"Kane?" He quietly calls my name, trying to bring me back to the present. He looks like he wants to ask what's wrong, but he doesn't need to.

I take another deep breath, and end up holding it. Every time I want to speak it just gets lodged up. I can't help but shake my head and ponder at if something happened that made me like this. If somethings happened.

"Miles..?" Was just about all I could get out. I normally don't call him Miles often. I don't know why, I had just gotten into the habit of calling him A.xlerod for some reason.

"Kane?" He said in response.

"Do you..." I had to fight for my words, "Do you ever feel like you can't talk?...Like you can't...speak?"

He was only quiet for a moment, "In what sense?" He asked.

"Like... It's all just nothingness. Weightless." I was trying to analyze the visuals my brain created and communicate it into sensible words, "Like, it just doesn't matter. That it holds the importance of..." I kept having to pause for several moments, my brain just couldn't fathom forming words at the moment.

But he waited. He didn't interrupt and he let me finish my statement, even if it was an empty one.

"Do you think anyone ever thinks about the factory that their T-shirt comes from?" I finally asked.

He looked a little confused at first. But the longer the short silence went on I could see him start to understand.

"Like.. do you think anyone ever really listens to the different noises their oven makes? Thst anyone really cares about hearing their stove turn on? Do you think anyone enjoys hearing their alarms go off?"

He wrapped his arms around his stearing wheel and leaned up against it, looking off into the distance, "I listen."

I don't know why it was surprising for me to hear. I didn't know my eyebrows were furrowed and my lips were tense until my expression loosened and dropped. Do you really? I wanted to ask. But I felt like I'd come off wrong if I said it outloud.

"How many people do you think enjoys hearing their kettle shout at them?" He questioned in response, and I couldn't help but giggle, "I'll always listen, Kane. I'd give you the microphone any day and listen. I want to hear about things that make you jump up and down from excitement and how you don't like the texture of one particular thing. I want to know every little thought that goes on inside your head. And I'll listen to it forever. Everything you say is worthwhile, Kane."

And I couldn't help but feel the corner of my mouth twitch, and the pain in my throat come back, and my breathing get all funny for a moment. And maybe, just maybe, for a moment, my bottom lip trembles and my eyes water up for a moment and I get all solemn. But it was better. It wasn't accompanied by any weight on my chest or like something was gripping at my heart. It felt so much more reliving and fresher, like I could breath easier.

"Miles?"

"Yes, Kane?"

I didn't say anything. Words evaded me once more. But I didn't need words to communicate what I wanted. I reach my hand over to the door and I knew for a fact, that the second I got out this car and he got out and I walked over to him, I was going to squeeze the living daylights out of him. And if it means we topple over and are laying on the pavement, then I'm not getting up until it's all out of my system. And, I think the worst part is, I know he wouldn't mind. I can already picture his iconic smile across his face and him laughing wholeheartedly. He'll probably wrap his arms around me, one in my hair and the other on my back rubbing it, all joyously while he does it.

I don't mind him one bit.