I really have to stop disappearing so much...
Morbid Fantasy
Because Isaack isn't in love. Truly, Madly; he declines.
Does it matter-? You wonder with a playful tone which sound sounds more confused. Tragically, he says, the humans will not make it for he was never strong. You don't flinch, mentally you know better- and you chuckle under your breath. Does it seem strained? I wonder.
Tragically.
Ironic- the bruises you caused never brought such repercussions. Revolting at the fact he was not your at the bitter end because you know- possession is so much stronger than love. Indeed, you possessed him. You controlled him. He was yours- and you his. Foolishness! You muster a cough, a anxious hack against your fist- white with gripping or complexion- you cannot tell. The master leaves- the light leaves- and you bear the cross in a silence mistake while your fingers stretch.
Remember him in his glory, a human Apollo which changed your expression even for a second. You wonder if, he would say, it matters how saucy I may act- your arms are so much colder than the floor.
You like the cold, you would reply; a bite on his chest and he was silenced by a burning sensation. You remember- no you recall with vivid colors and recollection. Remember sounds far too poetic- poetic enough to associate with love.
But you aren't in love. How absurd. You aren't in love. He has passed and you follow on your thoughts with present tense. You scoff and bring the glass to your lips- it never reaches the inside as your body seems almost listless. The glass tilts and red slips down your chin and stains your scarf- white and pure. Much like the memories of that night.
You pause before your lips part and you lick away the red- lingering along the parched skin. Yet, now the sides seem damp. A river is running and breaking the shores of a denying soul. You can't crying for if that were the case then you would have to- to be in love.
He chuckles again, but this time its soft and the intake of breath is heavier.
It makes sense you wouldn't cry- even though the wetness on your face proves worry-some- because you're not in love.
Truly.
With those words, he sobs for which he mistakes to be laughter.
...Because drabbles are just so wonderful. I've been owing Pika, my love, a drabble for IssakxDietrich for so long...