hymen: (118)
𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐞 ([personal profile] hymen) wrote in [personal profile] multiverse 2025-01-02 02:42 am (UTC)

[ his face pulls into an exaggerated expression of grotesque horror as he carefully begins wiping away the smears of red from her perfect lips. he came here for a reason and that reason feels incredibly ill-timed now — who knows when parisa might start hurling blood again, which seems to be her punishment for cheating death. he's starting to theorize, and it's all very shitty and bleak, a classic faulkner he would've blitzed through and complained about the entire time.

plus, she has him stuck in the bathroom now, and their bar cart might as well be miles away.
]

If you're gonna puke again, turn that way.

I've been losing time, and I hoped that maybe you could find it.

[ maybe she can stop it, but that feels too optimistic, after the things that've happened. the first time, with hawk — it feels so much like abilene it makes him sick, and it makes him feel guilty that now hawk feels responsible for something as stupid as fucking him without knowing if he wanted it or not (of course he wanted it. right?), and embry doesn't want to have to think about that on top of how he doesn't remember even going to hawk's room, or taking his clothes off, or getting in his bed. he doesn't remember anything but waking up. ]

It happened again, after that. [ he knows she heard all that, and it's fucking humiliating to talk about hawkins fuller right now. ] I ended up in Danny Johnson's room. Don't — don't ask. Don't ask what happened. [ far more humiliating than hawk is the violence that took place there that he's assigning to that terrible, rabid person he becomes when he wants someone bound and begging beneath him. ] The problem is that I got there at all. I don't remember going. By the time I realized what was happening... I was way in his shit. I'm going places and I'm doing things that I'm not — it's not me.

[ and yet. all those decisions he doesn't remember making are very him, if he pushed. he drops the towel, sliding her hair over her shoulder as his eyes flicker down to her throat, at the beginning of scar tissue that disappears into her collar. ]

I don't know. You can think about it when you're better. You need to wash your hands, you look fucking disgusting. [ he takes her hand despite this, passably clean if not for her nails. ] How did this get here?

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