#[ (and flint probably preaching about Why He's Doing The Shit He's Doing when miranda knows damn well he's doing it for himself/because of w

[kolanii-a-blog]

"Aren't you tired of lying to yourself?" @flint

Flint is quiet for a long time, gripping the edge of the counter top, staring out through the kitchen window at a world of sunlight and greenery, a simple world, a life he cannot access. It seems as though he might not answer Miranda at all- or worse, with the whitening of his knuckles and the tension in his jaw, it seems his temper might explode as it so often does- until a heavy, hissing sigh pulls from behind his teeth.

Every time she speaks of what they’ve lost–every time she guesses at how James feels about it, about him–something in him flinches and recoils. Maybe the wound is still too raw. Or maybe she’s right about the shame–

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Flint says, eventually. He sounds exhausted. Doesn’t want to snap at her, or push her further away when she’s become his whole world and he hers. But it’s a constant effort to keep the anger (the only outlet he has for the shame) in check. “I’m tired… of a lot of things.”