zachwinthrop

[zachwinthrop]

alexandraburton-x:

         she entered the modest niche, the obtusely lit chandelier like windfall upon her jaded eyes. she floated, each step like plunging her four – inch heel into a creamy cloud. she felt nearly comatose and perhaps that’s what she truly desired, to be lulled into a cold slumber that would purge the anguish from her heart. she wondered if then he’d feel guilty for the carnage he’d inflicted, but that would require the supposition that he possessed a feeling other than greed. somewhere within his distorted and perverse psyche, he’d convinced himself that all of this was her fault. for a moment, she’d entertained the thought. maybe she should have maintained her ground, spurned his desperate attempts at asking her out years ago. if she’d only said no, they might’ve had a { fighting chance } at life. what did she even have to offer him besides brazen clubs to the heart? and he’d never change, far too self – loving to ever change for the better. he couldn’t even admit his wrongdoings, didn’t possess a single empathetic bone in his body unless he was feeling sorry for himself.           he’d always find a way to humiliate her, use the choices she made out of love to quell her esteem. how could he do that to her? treat her like one of his groupies that deserved to be tossed aside and somehow, faith reigned SUPREME. her throat felt tight, manicured digits sifting through her clutch for something to top off her high. aurulent halos widened as they grazed cutting rose gold, her d i a m o n d adorned cartier band tucked taut in the corner. she cradled it in her hand, inspecting the detail. she hadn’t worn it, not once since she returned from paris. there might have been a part of her that knew all along – that they’d never amount to anything. she didn’t want to satiate her dreams, uplift her hopes as if there was a chance they’d be. the door creaked open, empathic bass throbbing into the expanse. she glimpsed over her shoulder, SURPISED he’d followed her. he coasted the room, pressing her body against the wall, disturbing the racks of overpriced coats that hung beside them. she turned her face away from him, flushed features weltering as he breathed against her. one more time – so, he was actually willing to let her go.          alex swallowed the nodule contained her esophagus, her head shaking. her palm melted against his chest as she nudged him away. ❝ no, ❞ the words she should have voiced three years ago. ❝ i hate you, ❞ the other hand clenched tightly around the ring she possessed, feeling it depress against her skin, leaving a deep-set i m p r i n t. one more fucking time – for what? to provide him with more ammunition? to prove that he still exerted control over his helpless paramour? she didn’t want to look at him. she couldn’t because she knew he’d lure her in and she’d swill her anger and hurt in an instant, just to replace it with lust. it was so much better than pain and she didn’t want to feel it anymore. ❝ i hate you so much. ❞ her voice was firm, the hand placed upon his chest coiling into a tiny fist. she wanted to hit him, make him sense a fragment of what he’d done to her. her chest heaved, the milk of her thighs pressed together. she wasn’t sure if it was out anger or safeguard from the avidity he threatened her with.

         she turned her chin away, closed her face from him. he fucking missed her. he missed her so much. it felt like a thousand needles had plunged into his lungs and he was gasping, holding the hook she’d lodged inside him in place in his heart to avoid ripping open another clean wound, stop himself from bleeding out. but why couldn’t he say it? he’d never talked about the blunt ending to their relationship - not ever, not to a single soul. he thought he’d let the wounds FESTER long enough to seal over, but they never had. they’d grown infected and they’d spread like a plague until he couldn’t even recognise himself. he used to be able make sense of his actions - even if they were immoral & illogical - but now he had a new, untouched trauma that was stringing him up like a puppet. he’d become a slave to his own flaws. he’d become a flaw himself. his eyes adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out the quivering outline of her face, her gleaming eyes downturned. he wanted to shake her. remind her that its them. things don’t just end. she was slipping away from him and this time he’d watched himself push her to do it and didn’t do a thing to stop it.          she said i hate you, but that’s not what he heard. perhaps he’d grown entirely delusional, or maybe he knew her too well. her fist coiled upon his chest and somewhere, he willed her to do it. to beat him until she saw blood and remembered he was alive and she could hurt him. she could hurt him until he went numb. i hate you so much. ❝ no, you don’t, ❞ he murmured, glancing down at the heavy rise and fall of her chest. ❝ you don’t. ❞

[zachwinthrop]

alexandraburton-x:

        she lifted the iced glass toward her lips, ingesting a lush taste of liquor. her stomach withered, the residue of granular lozenges burbling as they liquefied. her capillaries flushed cold, tongue laden as it failed to form the appropriate idioms her brain shaped. why was she so accessible to him? he knew precisely how to writhe beneath her skin, permeating the flesh like a needle loaded with opium. he injected himself slowly – so painfully, and then all at once until she overdosed. she couldn’t handle the effects, the ache associated with loving someone so cruel. she’d been dim – witted enough to believe that they would actually figure it out { this time } around, but she was just part of his hoax; the one where he forces her to become infatuated with him only to turn her away. the hearts poured from her eyes as he rejected her, again. her eyes flitted skyward, her head softly nodding at his remark.           ❝ you’re right, zach. but a whore is a whore, i’d get on my knees for anyone – even SHIT like you, ❞ she spat with an artful cant of her neck, loose scarlet tendrils spilling down its camber. blush petals parted into a painful, hubristic grin. alex knew she irked him, certain he’d do anything to wreathe his thick fingers around her neck and s n a p in two, but he’d lost that privilege. ❝ one day, you’ll regret this and you know it. enjoy your night, zach. oh, & your life, your miserable, little life. ❞ she swept past him, attempting not to tangle her jimmy choo’s in her gown as she combed through the crowd. she could hardly distinguish between the faces around her, blinking again and again to clear the nebulosity that consumed her eyes. asher was S O M E W H E R E, she knew it, but had yet to locate her amongst the throng of lewd bodies. maybe she’d have time to indulge in something else, a push to really send her over the edge. she dawdled through the lounge, her memory spotted as she searched for the coat room.

          her thwarts landed on his skin but melted against the heat. she couldn’t penetrate him with jagged edges - she knew what swords to sharpen and where to plunge them if she wanted to hurt him, but she chose not to. she spat petty insults at him and didn’t stop to see where they landed. perhaps her concentration was elsewhere - mending herself, or perhaps ( and much more likely ) tearing herself apart. but the flame in her was where he ran to when he was freezing, even if she burned him with it. it was the heat beneath the spoon and he’d inject himself with her until it killed him. as she pivoted away from him he wondered what she vowed he’d regret. he kept forgetting that from what she could she, he’d chosen. and it wasn’t her. but she was so wrong it was almost LAUGHABLE - he’d never chosen anything but her, not once. he was just too drunk off his pride to admit it. something about the way she spoke to him, turned her back on him, was impermanent. he was sure now that he hadn’t lost her - not totally. he’d lost a sizeable chunk of her that eventually he’d work to get back, but for now, he’d take whatever she’d give him.           zach stalked after her, eyes straining to focus on the bobbing scarlet C R O W N manoeuvring through the crowd. he secured his mask over his eyes to obscure his distinguishable features and watched as she latched onto no one and instead, slipped inside the coat room, the glittering trail of her gown following in tow. he paused outside the door, hand hovering over the handle like a bird shot in the wing. it dawned on him ( for a fleeting moment ) exactly where he was, how many eyes were on him. but it didn’t matter. it truly didn’t fucking matter because everyone around him meant nothing to him and the person in the coat room meant everything. and he was moments - away - from - passing - out - high. so fuck it.           he disappeared inside, swathed in a grey gloom. she fiddled with something in the back corner and he barely gave himself room to think before he pinned her lithe form in place against the wall. ❝ one more time, ❞ he whispered, tending to scarlet whorls, a hoarse softness to his voice. he pushed her hair gently behind her ear. she was just as marred as him - if he could provoke nothing else from her, he could at least trigger her need to self - destruct. ❝ what’s the harm in one more time? ❞

[zachwinthrop]

alexandraburton-x:

         her body awkwardly repositioned as he reached between them to pluck the shot glass from bar. she avoided the potential for contact, as if even the most delicate of touches would kindle an ill – starred flame. she followed his movement, the cant of his head as he swallowed a splash of vodka with such ease. he was as listless as her, anesthetized to avert the sting of any real emotions. they were the same – at least in how they managed their affliction. perhaps he wasn’t enduring their estrangement as well as she’d previously suspected. she felt a sense of gratification knowing he agonized and yet, she still scorched with rage as a result of his impetuosity. he leered, aurulent rings garnished by dahlia. his pupils augmented beyond normality as he flared, viscid syllables trilling from the tip of her tongue. they begged to pervade the space between her ears, but she far too frenetic to spell out their meaning. alex pursed her lips softly, teeth nipping at the innards of her cheek as he continued to communicate with her despite her earlier protest.          ❝ no, i guess not, ❞ she reflected, gaze drifting to the full glass of carmine liquor she possessed. her fingers carefully flicked the embellished piece of lime, a nimble smile crowning her rippled petals as it splashed into the liquid. ❝ i don’t want to have this discussion with you. as a matter of fact, i don’t want { anything } to do with you. was i not clear just a moment ago, or has all the cocaine you’ve snorted finally fizzled the neurons in your brain? ❞ alex erected her head, enameled halos gadding to his, slowly. her brow quirked at his inquisition, gentle twines of garnet framing the flushed contours of her face – of course he’d noticed. she exultantly touted his invitation to respond, her index finger fondling a loose tendril as she cooed, ❝ someone called me a WHORE recently. it’s been years since i’ve heard that. i supposed it was a fair statement. i haven’t exactly been an illustration of innocence, but i didn’t look like one – not quite whorish enough. so here i am; the only thing i seem to be missing is a dick in my hand. ❞           the minx bowed at the hip, an offhand h o w l assaulting her lungs. the contents of her drink lapped against its brim, spilling over her fingers and onto the immaculate beading of her gown. ❝ isn’t that something? ❞ her laughter ceased as she regained her clumsy composure, inhaling an intoxicating breath of whatever illegal substance floated through the air, ❝ you don’t like it? that’s too bad. are we done yet? because i’d like to be and looking at you makes me want to T H R O W  U P. ❞

         he watched with mystified caution as her lips stumbled over vile protests, concoctions of repulsion and hatred clunky on her tongue. she was so drunk. something knotted in the hardened paunch of his abdomen - he must’ve really hurt her. half of him felt guilty and responsible, and the other half felt satisfied. good. feel it. let it eat you A L I V E. she scaled him for indulging in his vices but she was rinsed with her own. they were just two severed souls desperately trying to claw themselves back together - or at least numb the sensation of falling apart. zach never thought of their relationship as some broad, scaling thing like alex did. he never looked at the bigger picture, like: what would they do in three years from now, just keep TEARING each other apart? holding each other at arms length until they physically couldn’t bare the distance, and close the gap for just one night? it was always here and now for him. all he ever saw was what was standing before him. and what was standing before him was a mangled version of the girl he’d fallen in ( l o v e ) with, and he could still feel the hooks she’d sank into his heart, rusting, surrounded by the wounds that refused to heal.          alex snapped herself in half laughing at something he was positive she’d cry about if she were a little less wasted. he shook his head, groggily observing the mess they’d made. it’d only been a couple of months. he almost allowed himself to feel sad for a moment. ❝ no one pinned you down and forced you to stay here talking to me. if you feel so sick maybe you should go get on your knees in front of a toilet bowl instead of someone you claim to hate. ❞

[zachwinthrop]

alexandraburton-x:

        succulent petals parted, the bloodshot berry consuming the acerbity contained in her mouth from the remains of the two tablets she’d swallowed prior. she had softened – physically – the muscles contained beneath her delicate sheathing limber and willowy. dissenting thoughts wreathed through gray matter, however; sinking needle – pointed talons into her very essence, desperate to be acknowledged. she hadn’t reached the crowning point of her high evinced by the fact that his destructive words reworked the insides of her ears – “pathetic.” she’d balanced upon a gilded throne for several weeks, certain she’d become the rightful heir to his bleeding heart. it’d taken one phone call to have her overthrown, the end to her reign curt and irreverent. is that what he thought her – desperate, pitiful enough to plunge to bruised knees in submission for him?           what more could he possibly ask of her? she swilled a bubbling mouthful of rosé, embellished lids fastening closed. she could still feel the rain trilling over the ambits of her face as she waited for him. her throat enkindled at the recollection, the profession of her love met with complete and utter disregard. { friends } – he proposed, only to castigate her for attempting to resume her life without him it. alex would try again with an invitation to paris, a whirlwind liaison in which they pledged an infinite promise to one and other in the form of lux cartier bands. the twelve hour flight home to california ensured her decision. she could only love one person, the S A M E person for the rest of her life, zachariah jordan winthrop. it wasn’t until the evening following his birthday that she began to question their arrangement, the pith of reality demanding her attention. they couldn’t do it forever; the secrets, the d i s h o n e s t y.           and when she asked him to choose the woman he claimed to love, he refused, unwilling to tune his life simply because she’d toddled back in out of the blue. was it R E V E N G E he sought – to allow the feeling of rejection to devour her as it had him years ago? she wasn’t certain, but in a subtle way, he’d decided against her and it was fatal. she opened her eyes to the clink of glass against ivory marble, corrupting elixir situated right at her finger tips. she reached for it, only to be hindered by a wide palm flayed against her arm. alex shifted her gaze, beacons of silver light muddling her vision, but she could sense his d o m i n e e r i n g presence. her lip curled, revulsion besmirching her countenance as she wrested her limb from within his grasp. her eyes travelled the length of his body. she could have vomited. ❝ don’t you dare fucking touch me. try it again and i’ll have you removed from the premises, ❞ she miffed, wreathing dainty fingers around her glass. ❝ get out of my face, zach. you’re dead to me. ❞ alex peered through him, candling the faces amongst the crowd in search of her date. she blinked twice to clear the film from eyes, but to no avail.

        his brow furrowed. in his blood - soaked haze, he’d almost forgotten how cruelly he’d chastised her not two days ago. her eyes mooned: nebulas blinking with rage. it was clear to him that she was, for lack of a better word, FUCKED. a congealed layer slicked the glass of her gilded globules, lids hanging heavy, lips wrapping sloppily around needled syllables. the enmity radiating from her was almost feasible. he was sure he could see it; ( t h r o b b i n g ) red. for a moment he wished it easier to just tell her the truth. how faith was merely a signature upon paper, how he loved her so much it ravaged his heart, how it was almost legally impossible for him to take her wholly as his own with out guising her in secrets. but part of him expected her to already know. shouldn’t she have learned by now? he was a product of his lifestyle. he sought control over their relationship to counteract the complete lack of control he had over absolutely everything else. she was the one thing that was him, but was still her own. she wasn’t a puppet wilting at the end of industry - orchestrated strings. perhaps he didn’t want to tarnish her with that. if she were to take faith’s place, publicly, she’d no longer be her own. and she’d no longer be his.         disparate silver beams danced over claret waves. he missed her so much. but right now, he hated her. down to his marrow he swore he HATED her.  ❝ dead to you for what? because you don’t get to play girlfriend on the red carpet? do you even have any fucking concept of what you’re asking for? ❞ he spat, picking up a discarded shot glass still teeming at the rim with clear elixir. it vanished down his throat in moments. ❝ you can’t just snap your fingers and have it your way, alex. even if you throw a big fucking tantrum in front of a crowd and dye your hair back to how it was when we met. what even is that? some kind of fucking power play? ❞

[zachwinthrop]

alexandraburton-x:

         she placed a tender hand upon his chest, amber crowns of light flitting to his winsome countenance. bursts of plated silver gilded its contours, an electric hollywood smile on display as he donned the undistinguished brunette from his arm. he sustained a heart of pure, 24 – karat gold; one that had been merciful, absolving the perverse minx of her previous wrongdoings. she speculated, however, that she owed the darling, french canary a thank you for sharing the pictures of zach purchasing her overpriced cartier ring. she became exonerated, her name once again pure; at least from the accusation that she’d slept with him on the parisian foray. glossed lips wilted into an oblique smile, the pads of her fingers smoothing over the velvet panels of his { dolce & gabbana } suit. a celestial being sent from the heavens above, what a damn fool. he’d been mystified by her baby doll visage and spellbinding curves. he looked at her with scarlet hearts bursting from behind his eyes, in love with a girl who could never return it.          at least not to the same grandeur. she wanted to; play the role of his exalted, LOVESICK girlfriend for longer than just night, but something told her that she was only as good as the half – life of her xanax. she baffled herself sometimes, lusting after the f a i r  y t a l e love her au pairs would read to her as a little girl, but instead of falling for the handsome prince, she yearned for the villain. three years of intensive therapy to sort out her daddy issues and the vestige of zach’s castigating ways – she still hadn’t learned a single thing. neither of them loved her enough, but she couldn’t let them go. the muscles contained beneath her olive sheathing felt flaccid, her eyes polished like C R Y S T A L as she turned toward the cameras. asher was beckoned to a reporter, cursory comments and inquiries about his recent success the topic of conversation. it was the revolting name that rolled from the tip of her tongue that nearly caused the rosé to surface, chunks of ivory capsules clogging her windpipe. ❝ how do you feel being compared to pop music veterans like zach winthrop? you’ve mentioned in the past you were a fan of his work. is there any possible chance of a collaboration in the near future? ❞          her eyes nearly billowed from their sockets, churlish laughter blurting involuntarily from between her lips. the reporter shifted her gaze, regarding her entertaining response. ❝ it appears as if your date has opinion on it. you aren’t a fan? ❞ alexandra tucked two of her fingers against her twitching pout, thwarting the urge to share a mordant comment. asher chuckled, his wide palm clenching around her waist as he clarified, ❝ i’m actually focused on making a name for myself, right now. i don’t think i need a feature from zach winthrop in order to do that. plus, we have two different styles of music – i’m trying to appeal to more mature audience rather than only ten-year-old girls. that’s more or so his thing, his niche. ❞ the pharmaceuticals had clearly warped her ability to be poised. alex broke at the hip, howling at the shade he’d managed to cast so recklessly. somehow, he appeared far more attractive with his backbone protruding beneath his skin.          the reporter snickered, recognizing the h o s t i l i t y that existed. she shifted the subject, ❝ alright, so we can safely say there will not be any collaborations in the near future. you know, it’s been reported that he’s concealing his engagement to supermodel faith coleman. any words for the happy couple? ❞ her laughter ceased almost immediately, her delicate features hardened to the likes of diamond. alexandra edged her body toward the reporter, her dainty fingers curling tightly around the microphone she extended out towards asher, ❝ yes, actually. the ring is beautiful – i’ve seen it myself. i think what i’d really like to say is, go fuck yourself, zach. cheers. ❞ she collected her blush gown into her hands, shoving past asher and down the remaining stretch of red carpet to return to the lounge. ❝ oh, miss burton, ❞ a stunning blonde murmured, brushing her fingers nimbly against the bend of alex’s arm. ❝ your mask, for the party. ❞ she gently knitted her brows, a limp extremity extending outward to accept the lace guise.          ❝ right, thank you. ❞ she slipped the accessory over her eyes without care before regaining the traction she’d previously lost. stimulating music { pulsed } through the speakers, the soothing croon of sinead harnett floating throughout the expanse. she surveyed her surroundings, beautiful patrons cloaked in couture and exorbitant suits. it was only a matter of time until wanton fingers sunk their way beneath beaded gowns, couples disappearing into powder room to relieve the strain that accompanied an event intended to satiate salacity. they held bottles of champagne by the neck, carelessly pouring them into berry adorned, tiffany flutes. crisp lines of COCAINE swept across marble with black cards and were inhaled with hundred dollar bills. through her haze, she was satisfied that her event had been met with success right off the bat. alexandra waded through the throngs of attendees, collecting a random glass of champagne. she needed something stronger, however; r o s é simply wouldn’t cut it if she wanted to obliterate her memory.          a towering figure lingered among the crowd, standing before her clear shot to the bar. she was polite at first, forcing honeyed syllables through her bleak petals, ❝ excuse me. ❞ either they hadn’t heard or they were being incredibly rude – either way, a generous mistake to be made before the incensed jade. ❝ i said fucking move. what the fuck? ❞ all one hundred and five pounds shoved fiercely, driving him from her path. her jimmy choo’s carried her beyond and to the bar where she naturally maintained P R I O R I T Y as the event coordinator. she hadn’t even bothered to regard who she assaulted. why would she? she asked nicely, provided them a fair warning. alex assailed the server, her arm pleated neatly against the counter, the other balancing her glass of champagne between her fingers. ❝ double vodka and cranberry. thanks so much, ❞ she requested rather curtly, plucking the bubbly doused strawberry from the chalice before urging it to her lips. she didn’t bother sitting; it would be mere moments before she set off again, making her rounds & in search of trouble to immerse herself into.

         faith unsheathed two obsidian masks from her clutch bag, urging one upon his chest until he closed his hands around it. he begrudgingly pulled the thing over his face. he loathed parties like these - he’d come to loathe most things that born of hollywood culture. faith’s ears had been clogged earlier in the day with WHINES and petty complaints about having to wear a mask all night. but then she’d suggested to him that perhaps it meant he could do whatever he pleased with no consequences, and he didn’t mind the idea so much then. faith twined a lithe palm around the hook of his elbow and pulled him through the ebbing masses. his gaze fell upon lustful silhouettes pouring over one another, spilled bottles, writhing bodies, lines of cocaine, hazes of marijuana. ❝ i’ll be back in a minute. go ahead. ❞ faith nodded sombrely and immersed herself into the crowd. zach seated himself at a booth with several familar faces ( or chins, rather ) and peeled back his mask. a warm welcome encompassed him, and he smiled, laughed when he was supposed to. all the while, beads of sweat percolated upon his hairline as he became more and more overwhelmingly aware of the drug lining the glass table. he pulled his supply from his pocket and nobody batted an eye as he prepared the parallels and inhaled them. he pushed out a heavy gust of breath and secured his mask back over his face, shoulders hitching as a wide palm landed upon them. ❝ z. ❞ he stood and pulled ryan into a brief embrace, propping himself on the edge of the sofa. ❝ where have you been, man? i’ve been texting you. ❞ zach dismissively waved a hand between their faces, eyes rolling over the hall. ❝ i don’t know. i don’t even remember what i had for breakfast this morning, or if i had any. or if i woke up in time for breakfast. i fucking hate parties like this. ❞ ryan shook his head, a wheeze of a laugh deflating from his chest. ❝ how? i’ve been to every one you’ve been to the last five years and this shit just doesn’t get old. i mean. look at that. ❞ he gestured to a pair of gown - cloaked models with their skirts crumpled around their waists, engaging in a kiss that almost felt perverted just to look at. zach blinked at them plainly. ❝ the air in here is basically a drug. isn’t there some rule against mixing uppers and downers? ❞ ryan screwed his nose. ❝ you ever done coke while drinking? yes. you’ll live. ❞ a smirk twisted zach’s parched husks, a flame lit beneath his heart until the thing recoiled to save itself from the heat. perhaps the night wouldn’t be so intolerable after all.           he turned back to the table and rallied the masses until shots turned into entire liquor bottles, one per each open mouth, and he fell into the I N E B R I A T E D whirlwind in which he wasn��t sure who’s hands were on him, where they were, where he was. images smeared before his eyes, and he laughed until his lungs shrivelled up, and he was careless and stupid and infantile. nothing particularly seemed to matter anymore. had he lost her for a second time? the thought HAUNTED him - in a haze of intoxicated rancour, something kept pinching at the back of his mind, and he’d remember. is she really gone for good this time? is this it? is this it? and he’d take another shot, do another line, let another pair of ruby lips smear prints upon his jaw. everything felt like a means to an end. perhaps he’d die tonight, and that would be fine, he thought. but he’d have one last blow out before the nebula diminished to darkness.          the group migrated to the bar and he’d stopped being able to distinguish one chin from another. they were just outlines - things to fuel his path of self - destruction. he mewled idly with two men and a woman, about what he wasn’t sure. were they asking him about when he got arrested? he tuned back in, turning his chin to them. they’d almost begun discussing him amongst themselves as if he wasn’t even there. and he wasn’t - not really. ❝ how many times was it that year? like three times? i have three distinct mugshots in my head. should we google it? ❞ zach groaned, pawing forward to grasp his shoulder. ❝ nobody needs google when i’m right here. it was five times that year. only three of the mugshots got leaked. ❞ he accepted the appraising whoops with a mantled face, but the memories of that year still leaked poison through his veins every now and then. without warning, he was thrust forward, losing his balance and falling into those in front of him. he staggered, UPHEAVED by a throng of limbs, and spied a waterfall of cerise waves accelerating toward the bar. his heart ceased: it entirely refused to beat, as though it’d burst and ( d i e d ). he heard his name being called once, twice, but it was like his ears had been stuffed with cotton. everything was out of focus besides the cascading whorls of bruised cherry pouring from this girl’s crown. his eyes mooned. he was at her side before he even had the chance to think. a fist snaked around the toothpick width of her limb and he felt limp. it was H E R . how the fuck could it be her? his lips fell open but he remained soundless, everything inside him seemingly stolen. was he barren? it was like he was experiencing some kind of PTSD. his arm dropped heavily to his side. he stared at her, an overwhelming nausea congealing in his veins. ❝ what did you do? ❞

[zachwinthrop]

alexandraburton-x:

@zachwinthrop

         – the days seemed to dawdle onward since the fire had been quenched between the poisonous dyad. her phone remained silent; devoid of apologetic text messages and flushed calls from an impulsive rogue that couldn’t distinguish his needs. maybe this was their crowning moment, the conclusion to mephitic fairytale. it seemed as if the silver stars had aligned altogether to create a flare so radiant that it nearly blinded them, but why was it that the stars that burned twice as bright, burned half as long? they crumbled, fragments of their smoldering cosmos christening the earth. the words he spoke still idled within the bounds of her mind, { scoring } whatever remnants of her heart that remained. what was so demanding about what she asked? how come he couldn’t place his hauteur aside to offer the truth? perhaps she was what she always assumed – unlovable. she wasn’t perfect nor did she ever claim to be some sort of holy being, but she loved him and she thought he knew that. was it not obvious?           despite her grandiose efforts to show him, he still refused to choose her. she felt used, the threadbare joke he’d invoked for laughs. she’d plucked apart her first flourishing relationship to its stark bones to be with him; his personal escort, a warm body to fuck when he missed her. she’d sing her celestial melody of darling, i love you’s into his ear & it still wasn’t ENOUGH. he resorted to his conventional gambit, splintering her recherché infrastructure with earsplitting syllables – whore, stupid, irrational, and self – involved. nothing could drown them out besides a swill of belvedere and a cocktail of sedatives. so, that’s what she did; to dull the burn that surged through her chest, her h e a r t. asher alleged to forgive her poor behavior over the previous weeks, but only if she promised to cease all contact with her casanova. how facile that would prove to be when he wanted nothing to do with her. she wanted to change and mean it, open herself up to accept the love she so desperately craved, but from someone else.           zach wasn’t an option, but perhaps a more favorable one had been put in her path for a reason. she just needed to expel him from her system, P U R I F Y her bloodstream with something else & then she could be good, an archangel worthy of love. although she was far from whole, the world had never stopped for a broken heart. her billet called for attention, all of it. an enchanting masquerade in observance of the impending american music awards. only all of hollywood’s elite would be present, hoping to immerse themselves in the fantasy alexandra had created. otherworldly was the goal, white – hot fervor from wall to wall, and the formidable aura of lust looming within the air. lux bottles of champagne decorated the tables, centerfold servers caroming the expanse in come – hither ensembles. she’d hoped her guests would give in to the temptation, indulge their desires. they were masked after all, their secrets safe.         she nursed a glass of dom, two bars of xanax melting upon the tip of her tongue. she swallowed, her head canted backward as they scoured her throat, dipping into the depths of an empty stomach. she shifted toward a full-length mirror to regard her ensemble, ivory crescents smoothing over rich, cherry tresses that had been carefully fashioned into an elegant bun. she looked like a real life angel, draped in lush, baby pink elie saab couture – a far cry from the preferred casts of black she typically donned. her entire body tingled, blush muscle laden as the capsules dissolved against rosé. good, now she didn’t have to feel a fucking thing but high out of her mind. thick knuckles tapped softly against the door, ❝ babe, we’re supposed to be on the red carpet. come on, you look beautiful, ❞ asher warned. his incessant ignoring of her existence had proven to be profitable; his music had begun to pick up airplay, gradually climbing the charts. suddenly, he was a topic of conversation amongst hollywood heavyweights.           it must have made zach r e e l to hear his name. she smiled at the thought. maybe asher would procure something else of his, a successful music career. alex opened the door, rolling a roseate petal between her lips as she greeted him. god, she was thankful for him; the perfect distraction as she worked through her zachariah issues. ❝ i’m coming, i’m coming. what’s the rush? you’ve got all night to stun the camera, ❞ she cooed, wreathing her lithe limbs around his neck as she kissed him tenderly. alexandra nearly lost her footing, toddling forward as a dippy giggle bursting through the air. he steadied her, wide palms collecting her against her waist, ❝ we’ve been here for thirty minutes and you’re already trashed? damn ale, ❞ he scoffed, linking his arm through hers as he escorted her through the lounge & to the entrance of the red carpet. halcyon flickers of light beamed, lusty roars from photographers as they advised all young hollywood when and where to pose. she had become so blasé to celebrity. how could people be so full of themselves? asher lured her out, a beaming smile of his face as he culled her against his chest to front for pictures. in spite of her hatred for fame, alex was fucked enough not to care, laughing softly as they taunted the duo for more.

         zach filed his white - powdered fortitude like mercenaries upon the porcelain of his ensuite sink. for a moment, his eyes hovered over the discarded nightdress alex had bore the last time he’d seen her: when she’d crawled beside him between luxe cotton sheets and whispered that she loved him into the warmth of his shoulder. his eyes squeezed shut, hands clawed around the basin, teetering forward. the memory had tormented him ever since she left his bed cold the next morning. it was almost though he anticipated something going wrong - the night had been too ( f l u e n t ). he’d been certain that something obsidian and wretched loomed in their future, but he hadn’t realised quite how near that future had been. but what could he do? he wasn’t even certain about his uncertainties anymore. he bent at the waist, ingesting two clean lines into his B A R R E N system. the effects surged through him immediately and he whipped his head back up, staring at his translucent, red - eyed doppelgänger. rage seared through him as though someone had flipped a switch, and before he had a moment to think, his fist had bust a solid crack through his reflection. he heaved, staring down at his hand, knuckles teeming with sleuths of crimson. the blood created a pulpous coat atop the porcelain and zach blinked at it plainly. blood had always reminded him of alex.            he closed his eyes and it was 2014, and he was kneeled between her softly parted thighs with her face cradled in his palms and her hair was wet from the shower, former ruby whorls bleeding down his arms. he remembered the red lacerations upon her shoulders as he’d punctured plaster with her deltoids, the pool of maroon decorating their shoes upon the dance hall floor as his hand bled from squeezing discarded glass too tightly. he opened his eyes and turned over his palm, examining the serrated scar splitting the skin in two. back then he’d loved her so intensely that there was nothing he was more certain of than the fact he’d simply cease to exist without her. until she’d forced him to do just that. he rattled his head, emulsifying the thing between his ears. a knock racked the door and his shoulders hitched. ❝ zach, can we please go? you’ve been in there for 45 minutes. ❞ he glanced up at his broken reflection, then back down to his hand. the bleeding had reduced to a slow burble. he drew the faucet, wincing at the sting of his knuckles beneath the stream of water. under the sink was a pile of bandages amanda had forced him to store two years ago, when occurrences such as these were far more regular and she wasn’t there to fix him up herself. he wrapped one around his fist and fastened it in place, then inhaled a further two crystalline lines before emerging from the bathroom. faith donned a floor - length, plum gown and wore her hair in a neat bun. she looked pretty. he didn’t care. ❝ what did you do to your - ❞ ❝ nothing. lets go. ❞          they sat at opposite ends of the backseat, a soft thrum of music vibrating through the floor of the limousine. most of their journey was spent in silence - faith on her phone, zach soundlessly calculating how much time until he could imbibe a further couple of lines. ❝ what are we gonna do when they ask us about the ring? should we just not say anything? ❞ her voice startled him. he glanced to her. ❝ no. lets give them what they want. i don’t care. ❞ she slapped her phone against the leather seat, a frustrated look contorting her features. ❝ but we’re not getting married, zach. we can’t say we’re getting married and then just not get married. ❞ a ghosted smile swept his lips. he said nothing. ❝ don’t take this personally, but i hate it when you’re like this. you’re insufferable. ❞ his brow furrowed. ❝ how can i not take that personally? that is a direct attack from you to me, personally. ❞ she soughed softly, folding her legs beneath her dress and smoothing out the material. ❝ lets just not say anything, okay? we’ll just smile and go inside. and you can try your best to act at least half sober. please? ❞ he nodded, his temple bouncing against the window. they’d been side by side on the sofa when the news article had emerged, and consequentially, both of their phones immediately started going HAYWIRE. he’d ignored his. she’d tended to hers, then glanced over her screen to him with the most indescribable look of horror and love he’d ever seen twisted upon a person’s face. he’d shut it down quickly, telling her he was buying himself something, then lifted his adorned hand. besides, the inscriptions were all hidden. there was no reason for her to know the truth. now, that same ring sat at the back of his bedside table drawer, unloved.          a sharp inhale battered his lungs as they pulled up outside the venue. photographers swarmed their vehicle before they’d even had a chance to put toe to gravel, before they even knew which starlets prepared themselves inside. faith passed him a wordless, heartfelt glance. he sidled to the door and wrapped a trembling palm around the handle, his other reaching for hers. when the door swung open a turbulent roar upheaved from the crowd, a thousand flashes dazzling his blood - shot eyes. faith slipped out behind him with her hand gripping his. occasionally, it was pleasant to have her by his side. it made it ( easier ) to endure aspects he found abhorrent about his career with someone who understood the underbelly of fame the way he did. a hollywood smile broke his face in two. he passed a glance to her over his shoulder, and she mirrored him in perfect harmony, two crestfallen angels relying on one another beneath the weight of the world. ❝ zach, is it true you flew all the way to paris to buy faith an engagement ring? ❞ ❝ faith, how do you feel about becoming mrs winthrop? ❞ ❝ the whole world is supporting you guys! are the engagement rumours true? ❞ and a sparing: ❝ zach, why is your hand bandaged up? ❞ faith turned into him, a palm splayed lovingly across his chest, an arm hooked around his back while they posed for photos. she squeezed at his hip softly, anchoring him back down to earth. he glanced to her and smiled. as they exited the red carpet, he looked over his shoulder to a lone camera. ❝ we don’t have marriage plans right now. we’re only young and we’re enjoying just being in each other’s lives right now. but you never know. ❞ she smiled toward the lens, breaking a million hearts. likely including her own. ❝ you never know, ❞ she repeated merrily. it wrenched in his gut. in reality, the words meant something entirely d i f f e r e n t to her and they both knew it. he looped his arm around her shoulder as they disappeared into the building, suddenly immersed in a writhing mass of expensive bodies drowned in expensive liquor high on expensive drugs. his muscles relaxed for a moment. ❝ nice job, ❞ she whispered softly. he nodded.

[zachwinthrop]

alex: well, considering you fucking treat me like one - like a fucking side chick, i figured i might as well live up to the name. are you done calling me names? do you feel better now? calling me stupid and a whore? i feel sorry for you. you’re so fucking miserable. and guess what? we did all of this for N O T H I N G. i would tell you to enjoy faith, but it’s clear that you don’t otherwise you wouldn’t call me every time your dick’s hard, so there’s that. now, if you’ll excuse me, i have some whore things to tend to.

zach: I'M miserable? you just threw away everything you spent three years building for a couple of nights with me. and fucking please, alex, i'm hardly calling you names if you earned them. have fun spending the night being fucked by some guy who doesn't give a shit about you. i sincerely hope he drills you so hard his dick touches your heart. maybe then you'll feel something other than pathetic for one night. ( line goes dead )

[zachwinthrop]

alex: i sound fucking stupid? you clearly are stupid. how many times do i need to ask the same question before you answer it? it’s not about the article or the pictures or the fucking ring. it’s about the fact that you won’t choose me & only me. why? I’m trying to understand why it is you do what you do, but instead of just telling me, instead of just opening up, you’d rather make me feel like a piece of shit. is this how you really treat the people you claim you love so much? that you’d fly across the world for? god, why do you do this? ( alex sealed the door, her guest arriving clearly prematurely. she could lie about it, should she? no, and give him another bauble to dangle above her head ) oh, you care? but only when someone else wants me?

zach: ( he goes silent for a few long moments, contemplating if he should tell her the truth about faith that he was contractually sworn not to tell a single soul. or whether he should divulge exactly how much she absolutely petrified him to his very core. the words tangled at his throat, clogging his airways. something stopped him from telling her either. he was so angry with her. he was angry with her for assuming all wrong, and for being mad at him at all. he wanted to twist the knife she'd left sticking from his chest three years ago until she felt it too. so he said nothing. ) what the fuck are you even doing? whoring yourself out so you feel better that your boyfriend hates you for cheating with your ex you're too self - involved to try and understand?

[zachwinthrop]

alex: forgive me for thinking for two fucking seconds that you’d grown up and that for once, you’d pick me over everything else. that was my fault, you’re right. how fucking stupid of me. i’m not gonna do this - it’s obvious that you and i will never be a thing, not a real thing. you can’t even answer my fucking question and that speaks volumes. so, thank you for that. for wasting another couple months of my time only to be the same, pathetic child you’ve always been ( inaudible male voice ).

zach: chill the fuck out. you sound so fucking stupid, alex. you don't have a fucking clue why i do what i do. what did you expect? did you want me to personally call the girl who took those photos and ask her nicely to let the press know, should she decide to leak them, that the ring was for my ex - girlfriend of three years? do you really think i can just drop and change everything because you toddled back into my life and ignored your boyfriend for a week? do you have any fucking concept of reality outside your own little bubble? i - who's that? you can't be fucking serious. who the fuck are you with?

[zachwinthrop]

alex: of course you don’t know what i mean. i’m talking about a world in which you don’t get to sit and play fucking house with faith during the day and come crawling back to me at night. if this is your fucking normal, i don’t want to be apart of it. ha, i actually don’t know why i’m surprised that you’d be so fucking selfish. this is coming from the same person who wanted to keep me a secret and apparently still does. and at least your replacement is honest. you hate him because he’s everything you aren’t.

zach: you knew what the fuck my normal was three years ago and you knew it when you got on your knees in paris and justified it by making me tell you i love you. you're mad now because there's an article about me and faith and you remembered you're in the exact position you allowed yourself to be in? give me a fucking break.

[zachwinthrop]

alex: the only problem here is you. you’re always un-fucking-available and you just expect me to sit back and take it. i bet you are fucking tired of trying to control everything around you. grow the fuck up. how about join the rest of us in the real world?

zach: what? what the fuck does that even mean? 'join us in the real world'? i don't control anything around me. what the fuck do you want from me? sorry my career was successful unlike your replacement for me and i can't be your idea of normal. but this is my normal.

[zachwinthrop]

alex: i’m mentioning it now and you’re still not giving me a direct answer. and don’t fucking bring him into this. i haven’t seen or spoken to him since i got back from paris. which is far more than you’ve done. you’re still sucking face with faith. aren’t you fucking tired?

zach: real fucking tired. yeah. of you causing problems for me at every fucking corner.

[zachwinthrop]

alex: is that a joke? you have everything to do with it. that’s only the part of it and you know it. the real story is, for some god damn reason unbeknownst to me, you’re still hanging onto her while you’re fucking me. why? don’t fucking lie to me. i’m done tip-toeing around it.

zach: if it was such a huge problem for you, why the fuck didn't you mention it sooner? and i don't see you sending your little dollar store zach on his way, either.

[zachwinthrop]

alex: no, but you incite them and you know exactly what the fuck i’m talking about.

zach: no i don't. i never fucking do. i have no idea how your head works because you're being totally irrational if you think i had literally anything to do with this. that girl leaked the photos. that's it. that's the fucking story.

[zachwinthrop]

alex: that’s cute - you think i’m mad. i’m actually livid and the fact that you don’t see why i would be is humorous.

zach: i don't personally write the fucking articles, alex.

[zachwinthrop]

alex: oh hey, i just wanted to call and congratulate you on your engagement. i had absolutely no idea.

zach: wh - you can't possibly be mad about this?

[zachwinthrop]

alexandraburton-x:

         his body emanated slight warmth. she could feel it plod across the egyptian cotton threads, sinuating ‘round her unclad figure. silence captivated the expanse of his room with the exception of his dull breathing. her eyes flittered as she gazed upon him, distinguishing his discomfort. neither of them wanted to engage in the dialogue as she was certain it would elicit a proverbial sensation of uneasiness about the outcome. what now? she didn’t want to be the one to introduce it. he had a way of making her feel inane at times, as if she should always be aware of what she’s getting herself into with him. he’s publicly unavailable and at times, even { emotionally }. he didn’t have an answer, no spell to somehow make it all better. they were simply stuck, bound together in purgatory until one of them decided to be done; finished with the deceit & sore secrets. perhaps it was her. somehow, as she plunged through the tempest that was zachariah winthrop, she’d endorsed the idea that having just a PIECE of him in her life would be enough – an insignificant p a r c e l was better than being without, but maybe she was wrong. her lips parted as if to say something, wiry fingers twining around his arm to hold it softly against her chest. alex faltered, her head shaking nimbly as she swallowed the bleak syllables. ( what are we? how long are we going to keep doing this? why do we do this? please, help me understand. i love you so much, but this is K I L L I N G me ) she sighed, nestling her meager silhouette against his beneath the feathery duvet. ❝ nothing, i – i just wanted to tell you i love you, that’s all. ❞ did they have to figure it out tonight? couldn’t this dream last a few moments longer?

         tension thrummed through his veins, thickening as they reached the hilt of his neck. he couldn’t think about what he was sure was teetering upon the tip of her tongue right now - he was so exhausted, so mind - numbingly intoxicated, so sick of having to make decisions for anyone but himself. his tendency to avoid firm decisions was almost a compulsion now - he’d averted it for so long that perhaps he’d grown fearsome of what would happen if he faced it. and he acted so tough, so impenetrable, and perhaps a part of him was. but as many faces that’d broken beneath the impact of his knuckles, he was still lost and wandering at his core. nothing seemed to make him happy anymore except H E R - but if he let her back in the way he wanted to, she could ruin him again. and he wasn’t positive he could get back on his feet for a second time. alex softened beside him, gentle siren calls whirling from her swollen pout. he tilted his chin toward her. a silence fell between them for a moment, but all he could hear was the sound of his ribs cracking from the pressure of his bloating heart. she told him every night in his dreams that she loved him, but to hear it aloud so purely, so honestly, so unprovoked. it wrenched something excruciating in his chest he wasn’t sure he could put back in place. it was meant to soothe him, but it ripped a hole right through his middle. his arm lifted to flick the light switch by the headboard, sinking them into a fervent darkness. ❝ i love you too. ❞