wiretchings

[wiretchings]

memory log #85

friday, february 14th, 2025 -- 5:42 p.m. 

today, elliot and i went to his consultation together, i held his hand as i drove the entire way there. his legs were bouncing in the passenger seat, fingers tapping against the back of my hand anxiously. when we got there, he started pacing in the waiting room, completely unaware of the two other people staring at him. i didn’t stop him, maybe he served as a distraction for them too. i just made sure that every time he looked over at me, i was there meeting his gaze, smiling at him. last night, he kept tossing and turning, eventually he sat up and looked down at me, laying next to him. 

“angel,” he whispered, “can’t you just put me on your back and fly us away from here?”

i propped myself up on my elbow, tracing his silhouette in the darkness. “what are you really scared of?” although i couldn’t see anything without my contacts in, i reached for his forearm and rubbed my thumb over the smooth skin. 

“i don’t know... of not being able to bounce back?” i could tell that his eyes were darting around the room, even if i couldn’t see it. “i’ve had my fair share of injuries and.. accidents,” elliot chuckled, “but never something permanent.” 

my fingers trailed down from his arm to his fingertips, waiting for him to continue. “it’s terrifying, dean, having the way you always saw the world flipped upside down in a moment. and at first, i dealt with it the way i deal with everything, by convincing myself that it’s temporary.” his hands were fidgeting now, cracking each individual finger then interlacing them together and pushing them outwards into the void of my bedroom. “but with each doctor’s visit... each time i go to walk down the front steps and have to catch myself on the railing... each time i go to touch your face in the morning and my fingers land on the pillow beside your head instead...” elliot trailed off, his hands clenching into fists now. 

i wrapped my hands around his balled fingers and they were shaking, he sniffled and i realized for the first time that he had been crying. i sat up quickly and moved his fists into my lap, searching for his eyes intently. elliot smiled weakly, “what if when someone comes after us again, i go to stab them and i-” he faltered. “and i miss,” he slowly exhaled a shaky breath. 

“you’ll learn how to fight with one eye, too,” i reassured him, my hands traveling once again from his hands to his shoulders. “but right now, you just need to focus on healing. i’m going to be right by your side the entire time, elli.” this close up, i could see the glint in his eyes when he finally met my gaze. “you don’t have to do this alone anymore.” 

when the nurse called out elliot adair, both of our heads snapped up in the direction of her voice, elliot pausing in the middle of the room. she was a kind woman, with warm freckled skin and long thick hair that’s been dyed red, a reassuring voice paired with kind eyes. elliot reached behind him, searching for me, i chuckled softly and firmly grasped his hand in mine. 

the doctor’s office was bare and muted, shades of beige and white and blue repeating in the walls and furniture. when the specialist entered the room, both of our bodies tensed and we glanced at each other, before directing our attention to her. dr. franklin assured elliot that, although he should have seen a doctor about his eye a little sooner, he’d been taking good care of the wound and that they should be able to perform the surgery with little to worry about. he asked her question after question and she answered thoroughly, offering details about after-care and ways to adjust to living with monocular vision. 

walking out of the office, elliot’s confidence had been returned to him, even if only by a small percentage. we finally had a date for his operation: february 28th, two weeks from today. suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and looked at me incredulously.

“what?” i asked, a small pit beginning to form in my stomach. he noticed this and laughed, hitting my arm playfully and shaking his head. 

“angel.. it’s valentine’s day!” he beamed, as if the day wasn’t half-way over and we’d completely forgotten from the stress of this appointment. “let’s go out for dinner!” 

i was hesitant, we hadn’t gone out for anything other than work or groceries since we’d been attacked and i was scared. i furrowed my brows and stared at him with my mouth open, the words unable to find their way past my lips. 

“we have to start trying to live our lives again eventually, dean.” elliot was more serious than i expected when he said this. “it’s kind of terrifying, i know, but it’s like you told me last night,” he paused. “you don’t have to do this alone.” 

i sighed, a small smile forming on my lips despite my tentativeness and he took this as a yes, because he made a victory fist in the air and began to drag me towards the car. i rolled my eyes and told myself that i would let him have this, he deserved it after the way he’s been fraying his nerves. 

here’s to hoping tonight doesn’t go terribly wrong.

[wiretchings]

memory log #84

thursday, february 13th, 2025 -- 3:08 p.m.

i worked my first shift yesterday since everything that’s happened. i didn’t really sit and think about it ahead of time, i just woke up tuesday morning and felt ready to go back. i texted sherry, “what time do you need me there tonight?” and she responded, “oh? 8 p.m. is good, i’ll be there too ^^”

it went fine, things don’t have the same vibrancy they used to right now. i think that’s on account of the trauma i’ve experienced, or whatever. i said that to elli this morning and he told me that i should think about seeing a therapist. in that moment, it felt like my mind was splintering into a dozen pieces and i almost got out of bed and walked out the door. i don’t want to fight, because i’m scared that’s going to make him leave somehow. when i said this, elliot held my face in his hands and sighed. his eyes did that thing they do when they get big and glossy, glazed over with love and sadness. 

it’s difficult to talk about these things without making him feel like he has to apologize for it. because i know he blames himself for everything, and i don’t want him to. i could have walked away at any point in time, it was my own obsession and choices that lead us here. and although i’m struggling to find peace with the static in my head and the way my hands look when i stare at my lap, i feel a wave of calm when i look over at elliot, wiping down the coffee table. ironically, i wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“i’ll think about it,” i reassured him, and his eyes soften a bit. “only because i don’t want this to result in me doing something stupid,” even though doing something stupid feels like it’s just on the horizon. it’s at my eye-line, staring me down every morning at the corner of my vision and i try my best to ignore it. 

when i came home last night, elliot was in the shower. i entered the bathroom to brush my teeth, only for him to start humming. “what are you doing?” it came out muffled from the toothpaste taking residence in my mouth. 

“just... humming a tune..” he hesitated, then continued mimicking the unknown melody. 

“you weren’t doing that when i first came in,” i spat into the sink a few times, until the water ran clean. 

“can’t a man be struck by inspiration due to his muse finally coming home?” he said in an exaggerated tone. it was silent for a moment before he suddenly broke it. “can i ask you something, dean?”

“sure, shoot.” i cleaned my toothbrush and returned it to its’ spot, next to elliot’s neon pink atrocity he calls a toothbrush. 

“so the wings...” i felt them twitch at the acknowledgement of their existence, “they work? i mean, obviously they had to have worked for you to save me that night... but did you know that was going to happen.”

i leaned against the sink, staring through the steam that had fogged up the bathroom. “honestly, i didn’t really think. i know that somewhere in the back of my mind i had remembered that my wings saved me once before when i was in danger, but that was more of an afterthought.”

elliot paused, “...so we both could have died.”

i shrugged, never having really thought about it since that day. “it was a chance i was willing to take, i guess.” 

“you’re so nonchalant about it... how very badass of you,” he chuckled, the sound of the water coming to a stop. 

“more like reckless, i put both of our lives in danger going on that walk.” the steam was beginning to clear and i tensed, realizing that elliot was possibly going to exit the shower any moment now. not that i haven’t seen him naked before, but it hasn’t happened since the first time we slept together, back in november. hazy memories of our limbs tangled together and the sweetness of sweat flicked through my mind, but nothing concrete. we were both drunk, after all. 

he stuck his head out of the shower suddenly, arm reaching out towards me. i took a step back, feeling a blush creeping across my face. elliot smiled, then motioned behind me, “could you hand me that towel?” 

i nodded silently and gave it to him, focusing only on his face when our eyes met again. “you know, when i was falling to my presumed death, all i could think about was that i was happy i joined you on that walk. i don’t think i could have lived with myself if i had to find you, i wouldn’t be able to stop myself from thinking about what could have gone differently if i were there.” he looked down, his usual wide grin replaced with a shy smile. “and regardless of the outcome, i was comforted by the fact that we were able to share that view together.” 

i didn’t know what to say, tears didn’t even have the chance to swell in my eyes, they were already rolling down my face. i was gripping the sink with my left hand and trying to wipe at my eyes with my right. elliot quickly wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the shower, cupping my cheek and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “oh, baby... i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

still unable to get a word out, i shook my head and rested my forehead on his bare shoulder. his wet hair was dripping onto my shirt, causing it to stick to my back. i began to sob, completely unable to control my body at this point. he took me in his arms and held me tightly, and i didn’t care how uncomfortable the wetness of his body felt pressed against mine. 

after i was done crying, i helped him dry his hair and applied the ointment his doctor prescribed him onto his left eye. as i was taping a fresh piece of gauze over the wound, he began stroking my hair. “sweet thing,” he whispered. 

we didn’t talk much after that, we were both tapped out emotionally and went straight to bed. i drifted from consciousness with my forehead pressed against his chest, swept away by the rhythm of his heartbeat. in the morning, i woke him by peppering kisses along his temple, down to his collarbone. when elliot’s eyes fluttered open, he looked at me with a confused look on his face, cheeks flushed. “good morning...?” 

“morning,” i leaned in to kiss him deeply and he reciprocated, pulling away gently with an arch in his eyebrow. 

“i thought you didn’t want... this..” he waited for a response.

“well, i’m not very interested in receiving... but i can be generous sometimes,” i grinned, hiding my face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. “how do you feel?” i murmured into his deep red curls. 

elliot grabbed my face, his eyes bright with excitement. “of course,” he kissed me briefly, “let’s make this a morning to remember!”

i shoved him and laughed, before lacing our fingers together and nodding against his forehead. i leaned in for another kiss, then another, then another. 

[wiretchings]

memory log #83

tuesday, february 11th, 2025 --12:53 a.m. 

we had a big dinner tonight, sherry came over to catch up and finally cook for my roommates. i still needed to know the juicy details about her trip to ireland and she needed to know what the fuck led to elliot staying with me, now with one less eye. 

(the optometrist we saw earlier this week said that, unfortunately, it’s unlikely that elliot will recover his eyesight in his left eye. we’re considering surgery to have it removed and replaced with a glass or silicone eye after he’s done with this round of antibiotics. it’s been difficult for him, as someone who’s always prided himself on staying completely intact despite his utter recklessness. i reassured him that he is no less whole this way.)

sherry made us trinidadian curry chicken and sawine as a dessert. it was divine, exactly the kind of food that would soothe my frayed nerves. she told us about the lush countryside of ireland and the shenanigans she got up to with her girlfriend, ciara. the pictures we saw of them were ones that you would show your kids someday when you tell them about the story of how you fell in love. sherry, leaning over ciara in her wheelchair, kissing in front of breath-taking greenery and architecture. the both of them in a cafe, laughing as hard as i’ve ever seen two people laugh, their foreheads meeting in an embrace. 

elliot slipped his fingers through mine under the table as we swiped through the pictures, giving me a look that said, “we should do this once we don’t have the threat of violent murder looming over us.” i smiled and nudged him with my elbow.

i’ve regretfully begun warming up to elliot more over the past few days. he comes up to me and puts flowers in my hair after he’s been out of the house, washes and folds our laundry in size order, kisses me on my brow every morning, feeds felix and takes him on walks while i’m working at the bar. at the end of my shifts, he picks me up and we walk home, talk about our days. it’s very obvious that he’s trying hard, and i’m trying to reciprocate as naturally as my heart and mind allow. 

it’s still hard though, when i wake up in the middle of the night and have a panic attack because he isn’t in bed. then he comes back from the bathroom and has to hold me until my heart rate goes back to normal. sometimes i come up behind him to tap on his shoulder and he jumps, excuses himself to the bathroom and comes back with puffy eyes. i don’t say anything, clearly he isn’t ready to talk about it yet. instead, i put on a show we like or make felix dance on his lap until he hisses and scurries away into our room, hold his hand, play with his hair. we text each other when we get to our destination, when we’re on our way home, sometimes we call each other, trying to hide the panic in our voices when the other has been gone for a while. 

we’re both trying to get back to a normal pace, while our bodies process the trauma we’ve been through in the past few weeks. i don’t know how long it’ll take or what’s to come, but it feels better to know elliot is always in my reach. 

i don’t know how i ever thought i was going to let him go once he was in my sight again. 

[wiretchings]

memory log #80

friday, february 7th, 2025 -- 8:20 p.m.

elli and i have taken the past few days to rest, heal, and talk mostly. we had, and still have, a ton to catch up on. feelings to express, thoughts to share, rules and boundaries to place. 

despite my sudden outpour of affection towards him and desire to keep him around, i’ve been hesitant to resume a romantic relationship with elliot. him on the other hand, was anticipating that we could slowly pick up where we left off. i told him that it wasn’t that simple. 

“what’s the most ideal situation in your opinion, then?” he asked genuinely, prodding at my mind with his eye. i forced him to go have his eye looked at, among other injuries. it was an urgent care, so they didn’t question us as much as a hospital would have. the nurse cleaned his wounds and gave us extra bandages and antibacterial solutions, while the doctor wrote him a prescription for antibiotics. 

i leaned back, “well.. ideally we wouldn’t be in this situation,” i laughed dryly. “i just want you to promise me some normalcy. i’m not naive enough to believe that we’re fully in the clear now, but i can’t come home to you gone, with the window open and curtains billowing. no blood in the house, either. not yours, at least.”

“yes, of course, i wouldn’t have come back if i couldn’t promise you that. we’re in this together now.” elliot looked at me gravely, “but i’m talking about us... what do we do about this?” he gestured between us. 

i reached out and took his hand in mine, sighing against the couch cushions. “can we just see where things go? i mean, trust me.. i wish we could go back to the way things were... but it’s not going to be what you think.” 

his eyebrows raised in unison, curious. 

“i’m going to be paranoid and constantly anxious that every time i turn a corner, you’ll be gone again. you’ve always known where to find me, you know i’m not going anywhere. and i believe you this time, but...” tears welled up in my eyes, i shut them and turned my head towards the ground. “my mind and body need to catch up with my heart.” 

elliot’s eyes pricked with tears, he blinked them away and nodded solemnly. “of course, i understand...” he kissed my hand, “i’ll prove to you that i’m not going anywhere. i’ll become worthy of you again, if i ever was in the first place. i promise.” 

after a few minutes of silence, he gently turned my face towards him. “but, i also need to make sure you understand the magnitude of this situation. i can’t have you agreeing to stay by my side without knowing the stakes involved. i know that my disappearances were impulsive, sudden, and unforgivable... but it was my feeble attempt at protecting you.” 

that didn’t really matter to my anger, though. he could have dived in front of a bullet heading for me and i still would have been shaking with fury. i didn’t want him to protect me at the cost of his own life. i knew what i was getting myself into and i wanted us to protect each other by fighting side-by-side. if there was a sacrifice, at least then one of us wouldn’t have to wonder forever about what could have been different had they just been there. and the other would just rest. 

“when you’re in danger... you text me, call me, scream my name, whatever will get me to you faster. i’ll do the same.” i stuck my pinky finger out and brought it between us, locking eyes with elliot. he smiled sheepishly and nodded, wrapping his little finger around mine and pulling our hands into his lap. 

[wiretchings]

memory log #77

saturday, february 1st, 2025 -- 5:33 a.m. 

things feel a bit out of control at the moment, i’m not entirely sure what just happened. elliot and i went on a walk last night and we didn’t have to travel far for shit to start going wrong. i was still in this strange daze i’ve been in since i found him sitting there under the winter sun. he kept looking behind us, clearly paranoid, but for some reason i just kept looking straight ahead as we walked down the hill and further from my house. 

i wasn’t relaxed, though, i kept getting intrusive images of paul’s men breaking in and hurting my roommates, or kidnapping one of us, both of us, in the cloak of night. horrific imagery of mangled limbs and blood, so much blood. but i couldn’t bring myself to opening my mouth to speak or moving my head to look at elliot. it’s like my body was on auto-pilot, i didn’t even hear him shaking my arm until he started shouting my name. 

i turned to look at him blankly, “huh?”

“where are you?” he tapped at my skull playfully and i stepped away from him, stopping dead in my tracks. elliot tilted his head in confusion, “what’s going on, dean? talk to me.” he reached to hold my hands and i took another step back.

“nothing is wrong, i just wanted some air.”

“ever since you found me this morning, it’s like you’ve been in some kind of trance. i know it’s a lot to take in at once, and i’m sorry for dropping in after everything i put you through. but, please say something... i feel like i’m losing my mind here.” he reached out to touch me and i flinched. i didn’t know what was wrong with me, honestly. i was afraid that if i accepted that he’s back, i wouldn’t be able to handle it if he were to leave again. if i stayed distant like this, then i don’t have to feel it when he eventually disappears. 

it was like i was stuck in place, catatonic and unable to reach out. his gaze fell to the asphalt between us, tears welling in his uncovered eye. he sniffled and nodded to himself, “okay... okay, i’m going to give you some space. i’ll just walk next to you, we don’t have to talk.” 

i nodded and continued forward, curious as to where my legs would take me if i just kept moving. elliot wouldn’t stop me, he would just follow me without question so i didn’t bother to explain either. 

my internal steering wheel brought us to a cliff overlooking the water, it was freezing and we were adequately dressed for the weather, but that didn’t stop the chill from passing through our bones. i sat on a large rock, weathered by several hundreds of asses over the decades, i’m sure. elliot stood next to me silently, we stayed like that for a long time. 

when he eventually turned to signal that it’s time to walk back, he tapped me on the shoulder urgently. “you don’t need to do that, i know--” i stopped when i heard a set of footsteps coming from the distance. 

“i was waiting to see how long you two would stay there without speaking,” the man chuckled in the darkness. “honestly, if i had someone with me i would have started placing bets on who was going to break the silence first.” he shifted his gaze from elliot to me and flashed a smiled, “you lose.” 

he lunged at me and i tried to dodge him, falling off the rock and onto the cold dirt behind elliot. he turned to help me up, keeping his eyes on the man the entire time. i can’t say i’ve ever seen that look in his eyes before, but maybe that’s for the best. silently, i flipped the switchblade that was sitting patiently in my pants pocket and held it at my side. without warning, elliot ran at the man and slashed his thigh, his silver dagger glinting under the moonlight. 

he inhaled sharply and grabbed his leg, catching elliot’s arm as it came down on his shoulder. the man twisted his arm and pushed him onto the ground, stabbing at the earth as he swiftly dodged each attempt. i came up behind him and slashed the wrist holding the knife, causing him to suddenly drop it. he kicked me into the large rock i’d been sitting on previously, knocking the wind out of my chest and possibly cracking a rib. elliot screamed my name, then shrieked something unintelligible as the man brought his knife down on his shin. 

“how are you going to get away when you can’t run?” he spat, “it’s good that you’re both here, this way i can kill two birds with one stone.” his eyes flitted to my wings, then back to my face. my blood ran cold as i realized the build of this man was similar to the one that had left that note on the hood of my car. elliot’s eyes met mine for the first time since we got here, it was clear that he was losing a lot of blood. i ran to his side and pulled my shirt over my head, tying it around his leg to stop the bleeding. 

“your scars are healing nicely since the last time i saw you shirtless,” he whispered sweetly. 

“shut up,” i responded shortly. i could hear the man limping towards us, the scent of the water traveling along the wind and past us. before i could turn to face him, he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me up. he put me in a chokehold, the tip of his knife prodding at my neck. 

elliot scrambled to get up, wincing and breathing through the pain coming from his fresh wound. he held his palms up and stepped closer to the man, despite me subtly shaking my head no. “just let him go, man... it’s me you want right? like you guys said, a life for a life. there’s no need for this.”

the man loosened his grip on me for a second, before tightening it again, this time i could feel a bead of blood run down my neck. i bit down on my lip, trying not to give him a reaction, focusing on my breathing instead. he slowly approached elliot, pointing the knife at him then bringing it back under my chin. elliot took step after step back, nearing the edge of the cliff. i was scraping at the walls of my mind, trying to come up with a strategy that wasn’t going to end up with both of us killed. even if i tried to sacrifice myself, he was going to kill elliot afterwards anyway, it would be useless. 

i couldn’t believe my eyes honestly, looking back. you would think i’d remember this moment in slow motion, but it happened so fast that my eyes couldn’t process the moment. elliot was there, i heard his shoe slipping on the crumbling dirt of the cliff’s edge, then he was gone. i think the man holding me hostage was taken aback for a moment, i don’t know if this was part of his plan, or just a happy accident for him. but, i took the pause as an advantage to escape and ripped myself away from him. 

my vision went white as i dashed towards the space where land ended and air began. but i jumped anyway. i’ve never seen elliot look so small, falling several feet away from me, i was terrified i wouldn’t reach him in time. i felt my wings spread, guiding my movement and making it more precise. this helped me angle my body in a way that increased my speed of controlled falling. 

the first thing i did when i got ahold of him was kiss him over and over again as we slowly drifted towards the ground. his cheek, his ear, his hair, his nose, his lips, it was terrifying because i knew this meant that i would never let him go again. my heart was cracked wide open now and it was bleeding all over my organs, and he needs to take responsibility for it.

we lay there on the sand, shivering in each other’s arms. elliot craned his neck to look at me and tried to stifle a laugh. “so, why the change of heart?” 

i rolled my eyes and groaned, i was too wound up and exhausted to deal with this right now. i kissed his sweaty neck and whispered, “let’s just go home, we can talk in the morning.” 

“you really are an angel, huh..” he said to himself.

tye and carson keep threatening to put us under house arrest, but thankfully we got home safely and went to bed after getting our cuts cleaned and bandaged. i just woke up, felix must be fed and he will not wait a moment more. i’m going back to bed now, but there is a warmth blooming in my chest watching elliot asleep in my bed. this is the first time in weeks that i get to sleep without wondering if he’s safe.

[wiretchings]

memory log #76

friday, january 31st, 2025 -- 8:41 p.m.

i finally got some rest, after watching elliot for an hour i decided to sit next to him with my head leaning back against the headboard. my eyes started getting heavy and suddenly i woke up in my dark bedroom. my first instinct was to panic, i reached over to find the bed empty. i sat up and i could hear the sound of chatter outside my bedroom. i threw the blanket aside and stormed out of my room, stopping dead in my tracks at the sight in front of me.

elliot was chopping vegetables at the kitchen island, while my roommates cooked dinner. there was music playing, the scratchy sounds of instruments emanating from our record player. i walked over to him in a daze and he looked up at me, smiling warmly. 

“are you sure you should be using a knife right now?” i pointed to the bandage covering his eye. 

his smile widened, “how’s my work so far?” he gestured to the carrots and potatoes he already diced into squares on the cutting board. 

i nodded approvingly, pulling up a chair across from him. i felt numb, honestly. i didn’t know how to process any of this, i still don’t. for a month, elliot was a figment of my imagination, the subject of night terrors, and most importantly missing. now, he’s standing in my kitchen helping tye and carson cook beef stew like we’ve been living with each other for weeks. 

“so..” i started, “what happened to your eye?”

he didn’t look up from chopping the meat into bite-sized squares when he answered me. “same way i’ve always injured myself, i crossed the wrong person and they decided they had to do something about it.” he shrugged, “i think i need to learn when to keep my mouth shut.” 

“why did you come here, though?” elliot flinched at that, but he knew what i meant. 

“i heard you were looking for me,” he finally looked up to meet my eyes. “if you were going to insist on throwing yourself to the dogs, then i had to come out of hiding. there’s no point in staying away if it isn’t going to protect you.”

“you thought you were protecting me by doing that?” it came out harsher than i wanted, jagged with hurt and betrayal. 

“do you honestly think i know what i’m doing?” elliot put the knife down, “i’m just as desperate and scared as you are, i thought that if we both stayed away from each other, then i can figure something out eventually.” 

“and did you?” i tapped my fingers against the island impatiently, the smell of raw meat making me nauseous. 

“clearly not,” he gestured to his left eye. “they’ve been watching you, you know... paul’s men,” he looked away, towards the blank TV screen. “i went looking for you after i overheard someone complaining about “the freak with realistic looking wings that’s been haunting the city at night lately.”” he repeated with finger quotes. “i got this as a gift from one of those crazy assholes.” 

i turned my head and stared at the windows, shades closed and shielding us from know what exists beyond these walls. “why haven’t they done anything about me, then?” 

“because they knew it would lure me out,” elliot sighed, reaching for my hand. “you don’t get it dean, they’re playing the long game. they will threaten and injure you like prey, pushing you until you’re terrified and cornered, with nowhere to go. that’s when they strike, when you have nothing left... nothing to hope for...” 

i slipped my hand out from under his and stood up, “i need some air.” 

he grabbed my wrist, “let me come with you, at least.” his expression was pleading, he was much more scared than he was letting on. 

“fine,” i exhaled, “make sure you bring a weapon with you, just in case.” 

[wiretchings]

memory log #75

friday, january 31st, 2025 -- 9:15 a.m. 

i was walking around until the sun came up, delusional and sleep-deprived by the time i started walking up the hill to my home. so, i’m sure you can imagine my surprise when i found elliot sitting on my front steps. the early morning sunlight flickered over him.

sure that this was a hallucination, i walked past him and pulled my house key out when elliot wrapped his hand around my ankle. i looked down at him and noticed that where his left eye should be there was a gaping wound. blood was trickling down his cheek, like tears. suddenly, i was overcome with this wave of calm urgency. “stay,” i said quietly, making a beeline to the first aid kit in our kitchen cabinet.

i took his hand and sat him down at the circular dining table, opening the white box to take out disinfectant, gauze, tweezers. he kept flinching but i ignored it, trying to delicately and thoroughly clean the wound without stopping. after i taped the gauze over his eye, we just looked at each other. 

“can i lay down?” he whispered, looking more exhausted than i thought was capable for a man his age. i nodded, taking him by the hand and leading him to my bedroom. he just sat there on my bed, unsure what to do with himself, almost like he was waiting for instructions. “elliot,” i gently pushed his shoulders down until he was laying on the side i usually sleep on, then covered him with a blanket. he closed his eyes as i leaned over to kiss his forehead, and they stayed shut afterwards. 

now i’m just sitting at the edge of the bed watching him. i feel like any minute i’m going to blink and wake up in the spot he’s sleeping in. what happened to his eye? why now, all of a sudden? why did he try so hard to convince me that i shouldn’t look for him if he was just going to show up announced like this?

i feel angry and relieved. there was a breath i was holding, hidden in the pocket of my lungs, that i’ve finally been able to let go of.

[wiretchings]

memory log #74

friday, january 31st, 2025 -- 5:38 a.m. 

i had to buy a new pocket knife since that man stole it from me in elliot’s apartment. i can’t leave the house completely unarmed. i’ve been asking around about him, but no dice, no one seems to have seen or heard from him since around the time he disappeared. is he hiding in another town? he can’t be too far, if he’s able to drop things off at that post office. 

i tried calling candance yesterday morning and he hasn’t come by, either. she told me that maybe it’s better if i start focusing on my own life. i told her that i can only start doing that after i find elliot. she sighed and wished me good luck. 

so, i’ve resorted to walking in the streets late at night. i know, i’m putting myself directly in danger while there’s already a target on my back. but, i don’t care anymore. i need to find elliot, then i can finally end things between us and move on. he bleeds into every crevice of my life, i can’t rid myself of him no matter how obsessively i wash my hands. it sounds cruel, i know, but i’ve been thinking about this for a while now. we’re never going to be able to orbit each other peacefully, there will always be something getting in the way. i’ll let him stay at my place until he gets himself together or confesses to murder under self-defense, whatever he decides to do. i am willing to stand in the line of fire, i just can’t keep living like this. 

regardless of whether he comes to find me or i go looking for him, there will be people following me with the intent to hurt me. at least now, i can say that it was my decision. 

[wiretchings]

memory log #72

wednesday, january 29th, 2025 -- 3:54 p.m. 

sherry came back from her trip, she found me curled up on the couch with felix. our usual customers must have told her that i haven’t been at work for the past few days. i can’t really bring myself to leave the house at the moment. a handful of traumatic events and a threatening note will do that to you, sometimes. 

“how was ireland?” i looked up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. i haven’t been sleeping very well, either. between nightmares of finding elliot’s dead body or being kidnapped and tortured, it’s hard to rest. 

“we both know that’s not the topic of conversation right now,” she held my hand, rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. “show me the note.”

i pulled it out of my pocket and unfolded it from its ball, handed it to her and sighed into felix’s fur. sherry’s eyes scanned the paper over and over again, trying to discern something. “you went to practice alone?” 

“what else was i supposed to do with my time?” we both know the road i end up taking when i have too much alone time. 

“do you have any idea who this might be?” she clenched and unclenched her jaw while thinking. 

i shrugged, “one of the guys that attacked me when i visited elli’s apartment, maybe?”

“but the wings thing, it feels significant to them.”

“another thing to hold over me as blackmail?”

“maybe...” she twisted her mouth to the side, looking out the living room window and into the street. 

just when i found something to call my own completely, it gets violently ripped out of my hands. something has to change, i can’t just rot away in this house. 

i have to go looking for elliot. 

[wiretchings]

memory log #71

sunday, january 26th, 2025 -- 12:27 a.m. 

god, i can never catch a fucking break. just when i think things are going back to normal again... fuck. fuck fuck fuck. i walked back to my car, disgusting and stained by the forrest. right when i’m about to open the door to the driver’s seat, i spot something glinting in the corner of my eye. i stop dead in my tracks, if my hands were cold and numb from searching before, they were now ice cold and rigid. they could have fallen right off then and there. i couldn't feel myself blink.  

elliot’s keys were sitting on the hood of my car, holding down a folded piece of paper. my left hand shook as i reached for the note first. i slid the keyring over my thumb before my ravenous eyes started scanning the words on the page. 

in child-like scrawl, “i saw you fly :)” 

for a moment, my mind jumped to the possibility that this could be from elliot. my head whipped around, looking for any sign of his silhouette. then, my stomach sank as i read the second line at the bottom. 

“i’ll rip your wings off, i’ll pluck each feather one by one” 

suddenly, i felt exposed. i pulled my hood over my head, as if the person who’s been following me doesn't already know exactly who i fucking am. i crumpled the note and stuffed it in my pocket, slamming my foot on the brake to put my car into drive. as i looked into the rear view mirror, my gaze caught on a figure standing about twenty feet away, staring right at me. 

i didn’t even wait another minute, i sped all the way home as my heart pounded against the leather driver’s seat. i’m sleeping with a kitchen knife on my bedside table and the windows locked tonight. if i fall asleep at all. 

[wiretchings]

memory log #70

saturday, january 25th, 2025 -- 10:57 p.m. 

shit. i just realized i forgot his keys in the woods. i was so caught up with my progress that i pulled myself up from the damp forrest floor and ran to my car. i called sherry and we just screamed back and forth at each other in disbelief. she had just gotten off her flight, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that she was in an airport based on her lack of volume control. anyway, i remember the exact spot i was in, so i’ll just take my flashlight and head out there now. 

update: 11:36 p.m. 

fuck.... i can’t find it anywhere. my hands and knees are covered in layers of wet dirt and leaves keep clinging onto my clothes. i could’ve sworn it was at the base of this tree. the keys bounced off the trunk and landed right between its giant roots. i’ve looked around about a mile’s radius out from this area and all i’ve done is cut my hand on a crumpled can of soda. 

the paranoia isn’t helping, either. i keep hearing the sounds of crunching twigs and heavy footsteps, but my flashlight never catches anything in its light when i turn around. it’s most likely just woodland creatures making their rounds, but it’s making me shaky, i can’t focus and my breathing is unstable. i don’t think i’m going to find it tonight. i should just head home and come back tomorrow when it’s light out. 

[wiretchings]

memory log #69

saturday, january 25th, 2025 -- 4:10 p.m. 

I JUST FLOATED LIKE TWO FEET OFF THE FUCKING GROUND!! okay okay let me backtrack for a moment. 

sherry was busy today, it’s her and her long distance girlfriend’s two year anniversary tomorrow so she took a few days off to go surprise her in ireland. but i’ve been on a real kick trying to figure out this whole flying thing, so i drove into the woods this afternoon to practice. i stretched, cleared my mind, ate well beforehand, and did a bunch of exercises that include jumping. i don’t know if any of these rituals actually help, but i’ve kind of been treating this like working out because i don’t have any other frame of reference.

as usual, nothing. it’s easier to move my wings now, even if they feel like a sore muscle afterwards, but still no flight progress. 

i was starting to get really frustrated, kicking logs and rocks and shit. elliot’s keys suddenly fell onto the dead leaves, jingling as they plopped onto the dampness. i didn’t even realize that i put on his jacket today, i just grabbed anything off my bed before heading out. my vision started going white and i took a few steps back. i held my hands out in front of my face, but i could barely see anything through the web of white. my feet kept moving backwards, until there was nothing to step on. i braced for impact, but i didn’t fall. 

instead, i was floating. it felt the way i always imagined it would feel like to float in a spaceship once gravity slipped away. my wings were flapping softly, creating a breeze that surrounded me and kicked up the matted leaves underneath me. i removed my hands from trying to protect my head, since it obviously wasn’t necessary, and opened my eyes. the white was fading now, just a milky vignette framing my vision. i wasn’t even high off the ground, it was just a short, but steep, incline that flattened into more indistinguishable grey and brown leaves covering the ground. 

i chuckled in disbelief, falling to the ground immediately after relaxing my body. the leaves cushioned my ass and back, but it was wet and uncomfortable. and yet, i just stayed there for a few more minutes, staring up at the treetops with a dumbfounded expression. 

i don’t know what triggered it, or how to do it intentionally, but clearly my body knew i was in danger and tried to protect me just now. 

[wiretchings]

angel,

i write these letters because i wish i could tell you everything, and i don’t know how to write for myself. it’s the only way i can keep myself from lying, even to me. i can’t look myself in the eyes when i pass a reflective surface, all i can see is a pathetic man drenched in the rain, all i can see is a man clutching at his side and gasping as i get away, all i can see is heavy. i’ve been robbed of the privilege of dreaming of you, i’m ravaged by the images of you laying lifeless in a pool of your own blood and it’s all my fault. it’s always my fault. it’s never not been my fault. it’s deserved. 

i try to be the charming and whimsical man you know in the letters i do send you, but i can feel myself fall short. with every truth i share, i trip over my own feet and fall face-first into the ground. i want nothing more than to crash through your window and collapse in your arms, you hold my face in your hands as usual and my tears smudge the dirt on my cheeks. you run me a bath and when the water finally runs clean, we fall asleep under your blanket covered in stars. the night sky never felt so warm as it did then, wrapping around our bodies. 

you’re the only thing that keeps me going, angel, i really don’t know any other way right now. i don’t have friends or family to look out for me, and my love feels like a burden that i’ve forced you to shoulder. i’m sorry for what i’ve done to you. i wish i could absorb all of that pain into my bones. 

i look up at a chilled velvet night and i wish with every ounce in my body that you are living better now. until we meet again.

ever yours, 

elli 

[wiretchings]

memory log #67

wednesday, january 22nd, 2025 -- 7:53 p.m. 

i’ve been practicing flexing my wings in the mirror every morning and night. it’s getting easier to move them without having to physically stretch my arms. it doesn’t look like much if you don’t look closely, it could be passed off as a trick of the wind, even. but, sherry has been taking videos when we meet at work. we run to the break room before our shift starts and she makes me take my shirt off to show her my progress for the day. every time, we giggle over the footage as i pull my shirt back over my naked torso. 

these past few days have felt different, too. lighter, strangely. you’d expect that being more aware of my wings than ever before would weigh me down. it could also just be me adjusting to being post-op from top surgery for a few months now. sometimes i’m focusing so hard on the wings that i glance over at my chest for a second and it knocks the wind out of me. but i don’t know. lately, i’ve just felt more connected to my body. 

i feel guilty for it, too. like i don’t deserve this good feeling because elliot is still missing & in danger. i’m trying to enjoy it though, be present in it even if my mind is screaming.

[wiretchings]

memory log #65

sunday, january 19th, 2025 -- 8:07 a.m. 

exciting news for once! to preface, sherry and i have actually started trying to figure out if these shits actually fly. and we made progress today! 

we attempted all sorts of low-risk methods, but nothing seemed to trigger my wings to help me float or take flight. we were sitting on a log in a secluded forest, unsure what we must be missing. sherry suddenly sat up and looked at me with a strange smile, “what if we’re skipping ahead a few steps?” 

“what do you mean?” 

“maybe it’s because you don’t feel connected to your wings yet!” and it dawned on me in that moment that i’ve simply been coexisting with them. i don’t feel like they’re an intrinsic part of my body, just an extension. a weight. 

sherry grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me upwards, now standing face to face with each other. she told me to close my eyes and imagine my nerves as the roots of a tree. “visualize those roots stretching out from your shoulder blades into the wings, connecting them to the rest of your body.” nothing much happened after that, but they felt heavier and at the same time more balanced afterwards. i jumped off stumps and sturdy tree branches, but nothing. 

we decided to give up for the day. my limbs were sore from climbing trees for hours, so i started stretching before we headed home. i stretched my arms towards the setting sun and sherry suddenly screamed. my head whipped back to see what had happened, i thought she saw a bear or something. 

“yo-your wings! they... they fucking MOVED!!” she pointed, an expression of complete bewilderment plastered across her face. “DO IT AGAIN!” 

i furrowed my eyebrows and shrugged, turning back around the way i was facing originally. as my hands stretched farther away from my body and closer to the sky, i felt a strange pressure in my armpits. like a muscle i’d never used. sherry started exclaiming again and i craned my neck to try to see what was going on, until i felt something tickle my side. i looked down to see white feathers flowing back and forth with the direction of the wind. 

it turns out that when i raised my arms, my wings started rising and spreading apart slightly. like a bird. and the best part of it all is that i could feel it. maybe i can fly after all. 

[wiretchings]

memory log #63

thursday, january 16th, 2025 -- 12:36 p.m. 

god.... i have the worst hangover migraine of my fucking life right now.. sherry is passed out on the floor of my bedroom in a pile of blankets. i would have stepped on her if i hadn’t spotted her cane jutting out of the hurricane of fabric. i don’t know what she was on about last night, but according to my last entry she was very convincing. i’ve never even entertained the possibility of these things working as designed. i don’t want to jump off a ledge and find out the hard way either. 

i feel like she might be onto something though... maybe it’s just foolish hope for a distraction i can actively work on, but i’ll take anything right now. i’m desperate. 

i’m going to make her a coffee and get myself some water, then i’ll attempt to wake her up without getting pulled into the abyss of snuggles. 

[wiretchings]

MEMORY LOG #62

wednesday,, j anuary 15? 16th??, -- 3:47 a.m. 

ok ok hhear me out, i’m drinking with sherry and i fefeel better than i have in fucking weeks! i made out with this really cute guy, it was fiun! he invited me ba ck to hisplace but i told him i’m in love with a missing persin and that threw him offhahaha, oh well anyway that’s not the pointt 

sherry thinks ish ould try to see if my wing s atually work@! we’re gonnnna try starting tomorow, i’m ex ciyed to have something new to focus on:) that’s probaly why sh e’s doing this but it’s stiil sweet<#3

godnight and goodmoorning :)))