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If Dylan ever saw Collin cry...
May. 23rd, 2024 08:29 pmTitle: Pink Clouds
He wanted to tell him how much he loved him but Dylan was never good with words or expressions.
He's intentionally turned himself into a robot. This is for the better of his team and yes, he understands, the lack of his soul means he's technically a broken man, but his psyche is only collateral damage. He's okay with his heart not beating the rhythm it used to.
He doesn't care about his fall from humanity, until these instances.
The way his cadet's cheeks glow pink under the glossy reflection of his tears. Collin's head doesn't dip low enough to mask his face from the world. A guy like Collin would never care to do so in the first place. He's such an eight year old kid for a 19 year old boy.
To push through the damage Dylan has done to himself requires a lot of mental turbulence on his behalf. Each part of his brain needs to quiet down, and then, the canvas is right there for him.
Or, you could just catch him.
You could reach out and grab him from his fall, and shake his shoulders until he blinks awake and realizes you're right there. And then, his heart beats.
"Why won't he just come back," Collin swallows to the ground. The two guys sit on a lush tall hill, that hasn't been cut for seasons. The sky is pink and stuffed with cotton balls of evening clouds over the busy city.
Wind blows gently, swaying the dandelions and overgrown grass about them, disturbing the thin fabrics of the boys clothes and the loose strands of their hair, and grooving between the tension that has worked up.
Dylan's arm lifts over Collin's shoulder and pulls him close, "I'm sorry." he whispers.
He wanted to tell him how much he loved him but Dylan was never good with words or expressions.
He's intentionally turned himself into a robot. This is for the better of his team and yes, he understands, the lack of his soul means he's technically a broken man, but his psyche is only collateral damage. He's okay with his heart not beating the rhythm it used to.
He doesn't care about his fall from humanity, until these instances.
The way his cadet's cheeks glow pink under the glossy reflection of his tears. Collin's head doesn't dip low enough to mask his face from the world. A guy like Collin would never care to do so in the first place. He's such an eight year old kid for a 19 year old boy.
To push through the damage Dylan has done to himself requires a lot of mental turbulence on his behalf. Each part of his brain needs to quiet down, and then, the canvas is right there for him.
Or, you could just catch him.
You could reach out and grab him from his fall, and shake his shoulders until he blinks awake and realizes you're right there. And then, his heart beats.
"Why won't he just come back," Collin swallows to the ground. The two guys sit on a lush tall hill, that hasn't been cut for seasons. The sky is pink and stuffed with cotton balls of evening clouds over the busy city.
Wind blows gently, swaying the dandelions and overgrown grass about them, disturbing the thin fabrics of the boys clothes and the loose strands of their hair, and grooving between the tension that has worked up.
Dylan's arm lifts over Collin's shoulder and pulls him close, "I'm sorry." he whispers.
