Sure, I remember seein' him around. [ a tone that carries no strong opinion outside of what's perhaps the casual disdain he has for everyone that dips his voice in natural venom. she'll get used to it. ]
[ but did he like it there... what a question. the memories of every time he'd scorned it play across his memory like an old movie real — tears in his eyes and all that shame and discomfort voyeured by those rich sadistic bastard, a gun to his head, aliens on his body with claws or even stranger appendages, knowing every interaction had a timer counting down attached to it... ]
[ somehow, even thinking of this, the past words "I fuckin' hate this place" don't resonate in him as the truth. at least, not the whole truth — because yeah, there was that, but there was more too. people close to him he let in, forgivenesses that were earned, sweet moments and romantic moments and downright fucking hot moments, and in between them — or maybe because of them, something that sometimes felt like love if he closed his eyes and let himself believe in it. ]
[ someone who he can close his eyes and miss already. ]
[ did he hate it? that's the better question. and the answer is yes — but somehow he made a home for himself anyway. so what he says instead is: ]
no subject
Sure, I remember seein' him around. [ a tone that carries no strong opinion outside of what's perhaps the casual disdain he has for everyone that dips his voice in natural venom. she'll get used to it. ]
[ but did he like it there... what a question. the memories of every time he'd scorned it play across his memory like an old movie real — tears in his eyes and all that shame and discomfort voyeured by those rich sadistic bastard, a gun to his head, aliens on his body with claws or even stranger appendages, knowing every interaction had a timer counting down attached to it... ]
[ somehow, even thinking of this, the past words "I fuckin' hate this place" don't resonate in him as the truth. at least, not the whole truth — because yeah, there was that, but there was more too. people close to him he let in, forgivenesses that were earned, sweet moments and romantic moments and downright fucking hot moments, and in between them — or maybe because of them, something that sometimes felt like love if he closed his eyes and let himself believe in it. ]
[ someone who he can close his eyes and miss already. ]
[ did he hate it? that's the better question. and the answer is yes — but somehow he made a home for himself anyway. so what he says instead is: ]
I learned a lot.