:).
This is what happens when you listen to James Bay on repeat. Pretty sketchy and not my best, but I thought you might need a lil' somethin' somethin' to keep you going.
Enjoy!
Love ~Aa
Until We Break
He jiggles the key around in the battered lock with his favoured hand, hoping to god she hasn't locked the other four dead bolts on the other side. A sigh of relief escapes him as the key turns easily to one side. The door pops open, revealing nothing but a slight crack of darkness. He gently nudges the door with his left shoulder and it glides open almost silently. He slides through the small gap effortlessly, swiftly snatching his keys from the lock as he does so. He pushes the door shut with the sole of his shoe behind him as he shoves his overstocked key ring in the top pocket of his jeans. He hears the lock click shut and pauses, waiting for some sort of movement, or indication from her. Seconds pass and there's still nothing.
His vision shifts, adjusting to the dark. He can vaguely see the empty hall in front him and some sort of light waiting to greet him at the end of it. His brows furrow, confused by the silence.
"Artemis?" He calls out, meaning more of a warning than actually wanting an answer.
As he predicted, there's no response. He takes that as permission and his foot, still pressed against the door, propels his descent into the shadowed apartment. His eyes scan every inch of the hall as he slowly floats to the heart of the apartment. His eye line darts manically around the room as he's greeted with the living room.
The opaque curtains to the left are open, letting the lights from the city cast an ominous looking shape across the floorboards, mud coloured rug and half way onto the leather couch. His head tilts to the side slightly, trying to figure out why something begins to stir in his gut. The wooden side table next to the couch grabs his attention. It houses a small wine glass, dark dregs still sitting in the base – the only thing out of place so far.
"Doesn't it freak you out?"
The words cut the silence with such brutal force that he has to suck in a sharp breath - partly because of the meaning behind those words, and partly because he's trying to calm his suddenly high heart rate.
His body quickly turns to where the outburst came from, and he lets that sharp breath he just took in escape. She's leaning with her back up against the breakfast bar with one leg crossed over the other as her top half hangs coolly back, her elbows on the bar behind her taking half her weight. Her green outfit still clings to her taut figure, minus the cowl. She seems fluid and uncaring with her stoic expression and hard eyes. However, her muscles give her away, her top half in particular. They're tense and bulging, as if she's scared she'll fall apart without their constant contraction.
She shifts her body slightly to left, revealing a bottle of wine sitting on the bar behind her, but that's not what seems to bother him; she was just confirming what he already knew. It bothers him that her face is apathetic and emotionless, showing no signs of trauma or distress. He knows her better than that, aware that she succumbs to a heavy drink after a difficult day. He knows he can't judge, he had once been a little bit more than a substance abuser in the past.
With a light sigh, his body moves on impulse. He goes for the wooden table, taking his time to reach it. Calmly, he retrieves the glass with his right hand. He brings it delicately to his nose and takes whiff of the rich aroma. His head rises as he turns, making his way to her. He stops. There's only a step or two between them. His hand reaches out to her, the glass in his grasp, waiting for her to take it from him. "Cab sav, eh?" he comments with that sly smirk, trying to make light.
Her eyes bounce from to the glass to his eyes, boring into them like some kind of soulless being. "If his head was 2 millimetres more to the right," she paused, her eyes dropping and scanning the floor momentarily, "his neck would've snapped."
His grip loosens, only for a second, but it's enough for the glass to slip form his grasp. He closes his eyes and the smirk drops from his lips, waiting for the impact.
As soon as it hits the floor it shatters into a thousand little pieces, and his eyes snap open. She doesn't flinch, she doesn't shift.. she doesn't even blink.
There is stillness for a few seconds. Their eyes are glued to each other's. She's got that same piercing look in her eyes, glaring at him like she's expecting something from him. He looks disturbed, his eyes wide, fearing what's about to come out of her mouth.
"Doesn't that make you feel so vulnerable?" She's still holding her own. Her voice is deep and commanding, completely juxtaposed to her shaking hands.
He doesn't answer. He doesn't move.
Then, she breaks, "Roy.." the words slip from her mouth with incredible feeling, weighted by something he's never heard from her before. "I've never felt so useless.."
Her words have his mind spinning. Why is she being so truthful, so raw, so vulnerable? It makes him squirm on the inside. It makes his stomach churn. It makes his fingers fidgety. It makes his mind swim, his muscles tense, his heart ache. His eyes dart across all her features and he can feel a stinging in his heart as her lip twitches awkwardly. She's trying so hard to keep it together. Her lip begins to quiver and it's already too late. There are tears pooling in her eyes. Her lips twitch into this heartbreaking smile as the tears explode over cheeks.
"I've never felt so inadequate.." she's choking on her words and he has to look away, "so human." She blinks, but she can't see through all the tears.
Her emotions hit him in waves. They hit him with such force he thinks he's about to break, but there's always a reprieve, only lasting a mere second, but it's enough for him to rebuild somewhat, ready for the next wave.
Then, he makes a mistake. He's looks directly at her and the words that escape her mouth rattle him to the core, "I've never seen him," she swallows hard, "look.. so human."
He reaches for her and his arms envelope her, pulling her in tighter than he ever has before. He can hear the broken glass crunching below his steel toed boots. He takes a deep breath, the slight musk of her coconut scented hair filling his nostrils with a hearty mix of sweat and wine. His eyes squeeze shut, that sickening stunt replaying in his mind like some kind of looped DVD menu.
"Shut up," the words, tumble out of his mouth in a hoarse whisper, "Artemis.. please."
She quietens for a moment, her body relaxing in his tight grip.
She explodes backwards, pushing him away. He stumbles backwards, his arms flung outwards trying to keep his balance. She grips the breakfast bar tightly, her face in some sort of twisted snarl.
"How many more bones can we break, Roy?!" She shouts, ferociously as the tears begin again.
She swallows as her eyes watch him. She wants an answer, but she knows she won't get one. "How many more scars can we collect, Roy?!" She shouts again, but there's no anger behind it this time, only anguish.
Her voice breaks and the words fumble out, damaged, "How much more weight can our shoulders carry?" Her arms shake, threatening to give way. It only after a few moments she collapses, hitting the floor with a loud thud, narrowly missing the shattered glass. She looks bewildered for a second, as if taken by a moment of realization. She looks at him and her expression dwindles.
He instantly goes for her, seeing her eyes fill with despair. His knees sink to the floor, his pads sliding across the disintegrated glass. His body wraps around hers, cradling her somewhat.
Finally, he has an answer, but it comes in a whisper, "Until we break, Artemis.."