a/n: for Madders – because she is a(i)myzhieing & i love her & her hurr forever.
i haven't written MollyLysander in forever, and i adore this pairing. this is a horrible drabble, but whatever.
disclaimer: j.k. rowling, okay? ©
utter imperfection
It's strange because every time they fight it's like he's taken a bullet to the chest. Molly screams and throws hurtful words that she knows she can't take back. She takes words and twists them so delicately they become poisonous thorns – thorns that send venom through his blood and make him feel sick.
The toxin sinks deep in his veins, but oh, does he strike back. He strikes back with words just as cruel and he can feel the heartbeats in his chest slowing when tears build up in her eyes. They scream desperately; they scream, and scream, and scream until their throats are raw, scratchy.
It tires them. He sleeps on the couch. He misses the sound of her quiet breathing. She sleeps on the bed. She hates the empty space beside her.
Fights happen more often than not. He sleeps on the couch three nights a week, sometimes more, and it pains him to see her so hurt, but he can never stop the words that just seem to spill out of his mouth (like an instinct).
She goes out when she's angry, spends his money and buys clothes she probably won't wear, anyway. He downs a bottle of tequila and whiskey and God-knows-what-else and throws up in the toilet.
They don't speak for about a day, letting things simmer.
And then when she's finished being mad and he's sick of cursing her in his thoughts, he comes home from work and kisses her passionately on the lips. She kisses him back just as fiercely and loosens his tie, and clothes are shed in a heartbeat.
They make love, fall asleep in each other's arms, and wake up to find something that annoys them –
The cycle begins again, and they're stuck fast in their world of utter imperfection –
But they belong.
a/n: …well, i'm going to go die of embarrassment now.
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