𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 -bob dylan

─ 𝘣𝘰𝘣 𝘥𝘺𝘭𝘢𝘯

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

"get out then if you don't want to deal with me, no one forced you to go on this road trip with me, you came because anywhere i go you feel you have to go!"

he shouted at her, fierce. she didn't dare flinch even though her heart wilted with the feelings she once had for him- still had for him. if she never cared about the man, boy, man, she would've have bit back her thinning lip to hold her tears at a slender bay.

a deep breath was taken from the air and soared into her lips forcefully, "last time i remembered you asked me to come with you! and you really think that? you think i'm that desperate for you? i love you robert, i love you more than some people love their spouses of fifty years, so yeah, when you go places usually i want to come. especially when i feel like your slipping through my fingers to start a new life!"

he scoffed at the girl, rolling his eyes plainly, making sure she would take notice, "at least i'm trying to make a name for myself! i can't stay here i can't not be known! i have talents ferosia, and you've always told me i have to chase after what i want. well i'm chasing but so are you. it's time for you to let it go, man."

she had never heard his speech go so south. it felt odd. it didn't feel like she was speaking to the old robert anymore and he had barely been in his new 'home', as he called it. home is where you hang your hat. there was no room to hang your hat if your apartment is smaller than your childhood bedroom.

"you're loosing yourself, zimmerman. you're letting yourself fall into this persona, this fake identity, i'm just looking out for you," her eyes softened in contrast to his, as she had more experiencing with bounding her drastic temper.

"bob? bob fucking dylan? he isn't some 'fake identity' ferosia, he's me. robert allen zimerman is bob dylan. and i don't understand how your brain can't process it!"

his voice was a boom and she didn't know there would be fireworks. she stopped speaking to him, her mind telling her it was the best decision, option, she had. she refused to hear him speak of that dylan. that fake man he hid behind. all she knew was, robert zimmerman was a friend, bob dylan was a stranger she never wanted to even meet.

"because i believe in the truth, and it's clear that you don't," her eyes had stung him, and he didn't appreciate it.

the grip he had controlled the wheel with tightened. aggressively. the cool temperature of his body had risen, and his eyes sparkled with the same shine of hade's.

"i believe in the truth. i believed i loved you as well, but i guess i don't. and hell ferosia, i believed you loved me! but now i can accept that was just a lie, because you want my fame. i mean, look at you, coming from nothing. your dad, he's a drug addict, i know that. your mom? well she's a bitch, she's a woman so it makes sense-"

he rambled on with his false accusations. he believed he was truthful, but he was no priest. tears had begun to sting her bottom lashes that no longer carried that prideful tork- that curl. she bit her lip, thinking she could tame the un-caged words that threatened to speed at him.

but her teeth now stopped sinking into her bottom lip. she wasn't even worried about the partial imprints, those would wear off in a day.

"for someone who is trying to speak like a hippie, it's clear you don't practice the full peace and love. robert, where in your mind do you think it's okay to degrade my mother and my father- but mainly my mother because she is just the opposite gender of yourself! she certainly had better morals growing up. you can't go a day without lying."

she hadn't lashed out like she thought she would. like she believed she would. but she was learning lots of things she believed once were false now.

and all he did was scoff at her, "so you're not going to even try to defend your once 'burning' love for me? typical," he rolled his eyes at her, disinterested in the girl whose tears now rolled daintily down her cheeks.

he bit the inside of his cheek, pondering a moment over what he wanted to say. he knew what he wanted to say- but parts of him warned him not to. yet, the fuel inside his body was cranked, he couldn't turn back now.

"get out."

her eyes widened.

"what? i mean, i heard you, but what? why the hell would you joke about tha-"

the car had came to a halt. it stopped. he broke. his hands flew to her door, swinging it open with aggression pooling around his grasp. the cold air smacked her face, and she looked up at him.

"i said, get out. if you're going to act like a bitch and stomp over my groove, leave. get off my cloud, man."

"i hate you, i fucking hate you bob dylan."

and she did. she hopped off. she slammed the door. she stood on the edge of the road, watching his car drive past her, watching his life slip through her fingers. the tears were hard to keep at bay as she saw a part of her vanish. all her life she tried to keep him close, through whatever obstacles swerved her, and him, into another direction. she had overcome a pocket full of them, and for a moment she believed she could conquer new york.

he went slower now, she could still see his eyes glance back at her. bob's eyes were frail, and rough. heavy and weighty. they stung her deeper than her tears could.

maybe she was too busy looking at him to notice what was creeping behind her. creeping being the wrong word. swerving. she was too busy staring at something now of the past to notice what was swerving into her.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙