THE SPECIAL SUPRISE!!!!
a little story, I made this last night in a haze of wanting to draw and thinking about @beepsquirrel and how much I care about them( cringe ik) they have recently been obsessed over indigo Park [mainly the racoon] so I've decided to draw something for them THANKS SO MUCH BEEP ILY UR MY BEST FRIEND FOR EVER!!!!!!
Btw I looked at a reference drawing for like two seconds so he's much different from the cannon one but idrc :>
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john finds love again there, in the palms of his mistress. she is a lot younger, all bright-eyed with untamable dreams. she speaks and the words fall like honey; like nectar, or ambrosia, and john pulls away always starved — his mouth bubbling with froth, his eyes razor-sharp to try to find where else can he place his mouth, needy for even just a drop.
he waxes in her presence. she laughs and giggles, tiny trills of beautiful chimes. john never gets tired of the way she sounds; of the way music pulls from her throat, spilling into the canvas they've made on the bed, and permanently etching the vibrato on his heart until john feels like he is twenty-one again, getting his first tattoo on a drunken whim.
she makes him feel young.
she makes him feel old. she dances to songs that john doesn't recognize. the tempo in them is a lot faster, the lyrics packed with metaphors he can't understand, but she pulls him into her space anyways, moulding the two of them together, and he finds that he didn't even need to worry — they have a rhythm pulsing within them and she coaxes it out with such strong familiarity, he forgets that there are years he's spent, a lonely voyage, before her soul was even formed.
he is complete with her, and the admission feels wrong like a confession made from within the flesh of a church. he knows there is penance to be made — his wife, greying with him, had long since pulled away — but he also knows that when he chooses, when he is asked to recite the lord's prayer, there is only one person john would think about. there is only one name that would itch the tip of his tongue, begging to be sounded out.
that night, he pulls her close, breathing her in. she smells like dew and ozone, and sweet chamomile.
"do you want to run away with me?" he asks, only half-joking because john may not be an honest man but he knows she deserves an honest love, so he will forge it from the shards of his broken home and sand down his edges so she can melt into him softly.
but she huffs, pressing her cold nose on the cut of his jaw — but she huffs, finding peace in his chaos — and says, "i thought you'll never ask."
the better half of his soul, there, meeting him in between.
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