Pallid
running with wolves
"I swear to God, Rhys." Celeste sulked over breakfast--it was brunch, really--glaring at me sullenly. "Don't say things like that."
We were eating on the bed, seeing as the little kitchenette in the studio was uncomfortable to cook in, much less eat in. The place consisted of the basics, a small room with a kitchen, a sink, a fridge, the bedroom, and the bathroom.
She hated it and never let me forget it.
"But I love you."
"Stop." She made a show of cutting up the food on the plate on her legs into small little pieces, even though we both knew that she was only going to eat the grapefruit. Maybe. Or maybe she'd just drink water all day. Or maybe she just wouldn't eat at all and binge eat the next day.
She did that sometimes.
I don't why.
"I love you."
"I'll stab you."
"But I do!" She whipped her head towards me, glaring at me. "What? I can't tell you I love you now?"
She picked up her fork and dug it into my hand, narrowing her eyes a little. She drew blood, four perfect little points. She let it fall onto the floor and stormed away in her little army jacket and boots and flimsy little shirt.
Her plate shattered on the floor, letting food fly everywhere.
The slam of the door echoes.
She has this thing against love.
We were eating on the bed, seeing as the little kitchenette in the studio was uncomfortable to cook in, much less eat in. The place consisted of the basics, a small room with a kitchen, a sink, a fridge, the bedroom, and the bathroom.
She hated it and never let me forget it.
"But I love you."
"Stop." She made a show of cutting up the food on the plate on her legs into small little pieces, even though we both knew that she was only going to eat the grapefruit. Maybe. Or maybe she'd just drink water all day. Or maybe she just wouldn't eat at all and binge eat the next day.
She did that sometimes.
I don't why.
"I love you."
"I'll stab you."
"But I do!" She whipped her head towards me, glaring at me. "What? I can't tell you I love you now?"
She picked up her fork and dug it into my hand, narrowing her eyes a little. She drew blood, four perfect little points. She let it fall onto the floor and stormed away in her little army jacket and boots and flimsy little shirt.
Her plate shattered on the floor, letting food fly everywhere.
The slam of the door echoes.
She has this thing against love.