#the brainrot really do be hittin at the dumbest times huh

[tracksdowna]

@webdget, peter: don’t run. i’m not moving. you don’t move neither.

fear. a base, primal instinct, one that's kept you alive for so long now, even before coming new york. their chases through the city felt almost familiar at this point — leaps from skyscraper to skyscraper, intermittent quick tustles upon rooftops just to remind each other the dance wasn't over yet, but muscles burn from running for so long, senses are fried — it's one of those days, and here he is. god he wants to keep running, to dig, to hide, to get away no matter what. you're good at that, running from your past, from what matters most to you.

❝ stay away from me, ❞ talons weakly anchor in asphalt, trying to hide the shaking in his legs, ❝ today isn't a good day to try and fuck with me man, ❞ but when is it a good day to see your little brother after so long? after so much? how long until burning coals finally extinguish, and something new can start growing in its place? you're tired, you know it, and he knows it too. finally, he starts to relax, shoulders dropping, the shakiness becoming more visible as he finds a flat surface to lean against, claws running through dark curls to steady himself.

❝ hurry up and spit it out, pete, i ain't got all day. ❞