ok but price and simon could give such tolerate it vibes.
him with a younger partner. he finds your naivety and youth charming. you look up to him, and you can’t believe someone older and wiser is with you.
you met him when he was on leave, and things started getting serious after a few months, but then he was facing deployment again. so, with teary eyes and a broken heart, you watched him leave and promise you’ll write every day.
he chuckles and nods his head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair before slipping away.
you do write him everyday, and at first it’s endearing how worried you are. you don’t know what’s happening, and you’re so concerned— and he appreciates that. find it charming, even.
he comes home from that first deployment and you’re there, waiting with a battle hero’s welcome. streamers and balloons and a fucking cake you baked yourself on the dining room table of his flat. you, beaming brightly and clutching your hands together in glee, waiting by the door.
he laughs it off, tells you he appreciates it, but it was unnecessary. you tell him you think he deserves more.
time passes, and the charm of your naivety and doting loses its shine. you’re boasting to all your friends about your man, how amazing and strong and brave he is. and he tolerates it, laughs it off.
the next time he comes home from deployment, you’ve decorated your now shared flat. the whole nine yards because it’d been a longer deployment. his favorite meal, hot and fresh on the table. a bottle of his favorite liquor.
he can’t help but be annoyed. it was cute at first, and now he doesn’t understand it. he doesn’t care for the festivities— he’s done things no man should be proud of, yet here you are, celebrating him.
he doesn’t want to fight, so he tolerates it. puts on a smile, eats a few bites of dinner, and slips away for the evening. you frown but don’t question it.
soon it’s like you’re living with a shell of the man you loved. he’s quiet. gone a lot. barely affectionate. when the two of you talk, it usually ends in an argument. he won’t introduce you to any of his friends.
you still shower him with love, talk his ear off about plans and your day and whatnot, and he nods along absentmindedly.
your friends tell you he doesn’t deserve you. you’ve basically become a live-in housemaid that he occasionally fucks. you don’t believe it at first, but you come to realize it’s truth.
your love should be celebrated, not tolerated. you should be with someone who loves you as much as you love them.
the next time he’s on deployment, you move out. pack all your shit into a u-haul and move in with a friend for the time being. leave a note stained with tears on the dining room table.
he gets home from deployment, expecting what’s become normal. you, waiting anxiously by the door, jumping into his arms as soon as he’s inside. the smell of dessert or his favorite dinner wafting from the kitchen. balloons and streamers and confetti.
the house is dark when he steps through the door.
part two here, part three (ending version 1) here, part three (ending version 2) here
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I heart Until Dawn and it's collection of comically stupid characters. and I do mean all of them. and I do mean it affectionately. I just. god. the reason that anything can happen to these people At All is because, somehow, Every Single One Of Them decided that it was a good idea to accept an invite to the World's Most Suspicious Event at the World's Most Suspicious Place. "hmm!! I'm sure nothing strange or horrific is going to happen to us up on our rich friend's isolated mountain lodge; why would it?? I mean, sure, we Are going to be up there on the exact same date that we inadvertently triggered the events of his sisters' disappearance, but surely he's not upset with us about that or anything. let's go!!" seven separate people. nobody thought anything of it. it's incredible. impressive, even. I mean, I don't know. me personallyyyyy?? I probably would've received that invitation and thought, "oh, he's For Sure gonna do something to us up there, and he For Sure has the means to get away with it; I'm Not Gonna Go." but. hey. that's just me.
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