#dawnriscn

[nesciret]

it’s sparked by the constancy of dread tenaciously clinging to his conscience—  the feeling of overwhelming insecurity within his current standing. there is no foothold on the jagged pass he climbs;  no outcome where they both remain happily within each other’s arms as though death doesn’t hand over their heads, idly watching and waiting for the perfect moment of ideal grace vanitas is dealt to strike and so quickly steal it. it’s a thought that lingers like a stray cat—  never around constantly, but always returning when it’s fed. with this thought, he’s left to stir within their bed, sleep evading him as though he were a plague to be cast out. vanitas turns on his side, facing away from riku as though it would take his mind off his rest’s silent thief, but to no avail. his fingers grip at the blanket that only partially covers them both, himself having stolen whatever purchase there was for riku to find within it during his fitful, temporary sleep. 

it grows, festers, and becomes a beast no longer able to be tamed;  the ideal monster nourished by his family’s curse, he thinks. it’s laughable—  he’d thought that just this once he’d be able to escape it. the monster hadn’t always been so enormous;  once, it hadn’t even existed on the same plane as he whenever he and a loved one were near.  little by little,  life by life,  each and every one of them had contributed to the beast’s dwelling, making a home for it deep within his chest that he would suffer whenever he’d so much as thought of approaching someone new. now, it roared with a ferocity that could only ever be quelled by the touch of riku’s hand against his cheek, palm settling when he wished to grant the affection he’d known was needed but never asked for. it’s only when he’s granted no small amount of affection  ( because he wants to, not because he needs to )  that it returns to a small, incessant voice only to be heard when he listens hard enough. vanitas turns once more, this time, intent on gazing at the beautiful features of his sleeping lover—  long frostbitten lashes closed, lips slightly parted when he breathes ever so softly, hair sprawled about the pillow his head rests upon. 

he must let him go, he thinks, otherwise he won’t be able to live with himself knowing that it’s the beast that’s killed him. he must leave and never come back, he thinks, his own palm cupping a pallid cheek as he smiles, as if yearning. 

@dawnriscn

[nesciret]

@dawnriscn is a fucking menace