Daddy issues || h.s

4.2

Let me tell you a story. Let me tell you a story of a moment.

It was not a long moment. In fact, it was a very short moment, so it shan't take much time telling you about it, but I do beg you to listen to it anyway.

It was a moment of darkness, of complete and utter darkness. The sun was dead; its golden rays having run down into the earth and drowned in the shadows of the night. Pale pink petals were scattered across its grave, slowly decaying in the summer heat. 

Death decorating death. 

In that darkness, a boy lay awake, trying to catch a glimpse of the stars. But a veil of clouds had been draped across them, and he could no longer see the way to Neverland.

 A woman lay beside him, her eyes closed, the sound of her soft breath filling the room. Her hair was dark, and her eyebrows were knitted together, but the boy could not see it, because the room was too black. So he rolled over, his big hand falling to rest on her naked back. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his fingers, and he could feel the slow beat of her heart underneath his palm. 

A stranger might look at them and think they were in love. Because sweat adorned their bodies from their hasty desire, and their chests rose in unison, drawing the black air in and out of their corrupted lungs. In fact, they seemed perfect for each other. Not only because of what was scattered across their skin, but also because of what was inside their chests. 

Within the cage of their ribs, held in place by ivory bars, rested a mineral that had been known to man for almost six thousand years and that had laid the base of all known life on earth: Carbon. It resided in their chests, ruling their hearts and lungs with a silver crown upon its head. It was cruel, unmerciful, and at war with each other. For even here they were opposites. 

The brown haired woman's chest was just that: a chest, a treasure chest. Translucent diamonds rested within her, formed by years of immense pressure and heat. And now hey had finally aligned along her ribs, protecting her heart. No one could ever break through it, for it is the hardest material of all. 

The curly haired boy's chest was lined with coal; the carcass of flowers that had once blazed with fire, now cold to the touch. It stained his insides, black bruises appearing in his lungs. It made him feel dead inside, as if he was a rotting corpse. He couldn't stand it; he had to light them up again. He had to feel the heat burn his lungs and the smoke scorch his throat. He had to cauterize his wounds, or else the infection would spread. 

Had the stranger seen all this, had they seen the way she shied away from his touch even in her sleep, or the way he turned away from her, once again searching for the stars, they would have known they were not. They were not in love, they were alone, and so they would be for as long as they stayed together. Because the blue-eyed girl who had once kept them company was gone, and she would never again return.