#✖✖↔❝This town called you too. You and I are the same.❞ ⌊OTHER HALF⌋

[somethingihavetodo-blog]

@abyssstaresback replied to your post: ( You know, James’d probably like being hit so I...

[ you’re not wrong ]

( Good to know. I and my James’ll keep that in mind! )

[somethingihavetodo-blog]

what do you think it's gonna be like to make out with yourself?

“Not to, uh, toot my own horn or anything, but,” he leaned back a bit, the slightest of smiles lifting before it grew into a somewhat smirk, “pretty good.”

@abyssstaresback

[somethingihavetodo-blog]

@abyssstaresback

“Mr. Sunderland, are you trying to seduce me?”

[somethingihavetodo-blog]

No one else understands;;

[ @abyssstaresback​ ] [x]

“Don’t do this.” Having to beg it of himself is proof of the obstinate sickness in the belly of this town. It’s the first time he dares to touch, fingers curling around familiar green jacket at the elbow, akin to child pleading for a loved one. He’s certain, if he watches the light fade from those eyes (his eyes), with it will go his last scrap of will to proceed. James needs him.

This, a kind of grief unfathomable, pleading tug turns into a full on grip, voice low and uneasy, manic in its delivery. “Don’t leave me here alone, please. If you can’t make it, neither can I. We have to be in this together, James, no one else understand what we’ve been through.”

“Don’t do this.”

            “James... Wait...”

His gaze widened, briefly, his pupils shrinking from that rolled sensation of a chill running along his body. James’ grip on that pistol in his left hand loosened, just slight, and he stared across at empty air before his eyes flicked over to his other’s facial expression, that hand on his jacket sleeve, then back up to his face.

“Don’t leave me here alone, please.”

            “Don't leave alone! Please don't go!”

The breath that James exhaled was uneven, shaking, not from his own self-doubt, but odd sensations which he had not ever thought he would feel again.

Hope. Relief. Care.

“We have to be in this together, James, no one else understands what we’ve been through.”

            “You killed me and you're suffering for it. It's enough, James.”

Guilt. Remorse. Yearning.

James clicked the safety back onto the pistol, and moved from where he had been seated - a chair, in the lakeview hotel room where they had been resting - and set the pistol on the nearby table. He shifted, then, and did something he had not done in what felt like an eternity.

James wrapped his arms around his other, pulling him into an embrace.

“...What I said was...careless.” He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘I’m sorry’ because part of James still felt that he wasn’t worthy to be forgiven. To be pardoned, or accepted. And yet. His other was trying, so hard, to understand and to be there. A smile rose to James’ lips, and he felt happy even with that guilt, the remorse, the uncertainty of everything,

“Thank you.”

[somethingihavetodo-blog]

[ @abyssstaresback ]

“...So, what should I call you by?” Finally, James was asking that question. Up until now, he had avoided using that name. Although their facial features, mannerisms, even speech, were different, there were enough similarities that the two could be confused for possible twins if anyone else saw them.

James had defaulted to catch-all words, to avoid the awkward topic. Though, he could only dance around the subject for so long. Maybe it was wanting something solidified in order to help him cope with this whole situation better.

Or maybe he was just getting tired of saying ‘you’ and ‘sir’ so much.