anger. that’s all he’s able to think of for a too-long moment, and it terrifies him. for the first time in his life, though, he feels something stronger than fear that isn’t UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.
before the fear cripples him, he’s possessed by something. he blinks and suddenly the back of his hand aches, the sound of skin hitting skin stings his ears.
has archie ever hit anyone before?
terror is his instinct still and he backs himself into the wall, hands half-raised, ready to block any retaliation he might get for what he just did.
“don’t say that. don’t fucking say that shit.” his voice trembles, bubbling over with the unfamiliar emotion. more words burn his throat, but fear holds them there tightly, painfully tense.
refraining from HITTING BACK cuts his reflexes in two , slashes instincts with a serrated knife - tension in the air as his shaking hand moves to press the growingly painful spot on his cheek . this existence feels F U T I L E , like a bad dream ( only now does it become reality , as anger floods his features &&sluggish blood vessels , as knuckles shift , as fists clench ) .
wishing for a self - destruct button , reigning in outward anger to turn it in on himself - DON’T TOUCH ARCHIE // DON’T HURT ARCHIE // PUSH , PUSH , P U S H !!! don’t let him get close . keep him at arm’s length . maybe then he’ll SURVIVE YOU .
‘F U C K Y O U . ’
no . dylan refuses the option of S U R V I V A L over F E A R && P A I N , envy tinted scars THROBBING as bone press against tissue paper skin . response is half - heartedly angry , pained && bitter ( more at himself than at his LOVE) .
unlike archie, who spews forth words and LOVE and emotions at every given moment, leaves no part of himself hidden, charlie’s own expression leaves something to be desired. his words always fall short, and no matter how he tries to fit the syllables together, his broken brain never allows for accurate expression of his thoughts.
so for now he gives up, and instead slowly moves to draw dylan close to his chest, to gently drape his arms around his shoulders and hold him close. his grip is tight enough to be THERE for him, but loose enough for him to pull away without much struggle.
“come back,” his ruined voice begs, thin and rasping, hurting too much for the other to worry about making it softer. “don’t leave me because of this.”
it takes a minute , but there’s really no option but to C O L L A P S E into charlie , to SOB && GASP into his chest . lost little boy , lonely && sad , stumbling through cursed life fuelled only by someone else’s hopes && dreams . the metallic taste of blood engulfs his senses ( his jaw’s shifted enough to slice the insides of his cheeks , to add to the already palpable scars ) , even as his rocking form continues to REGRET ALL . dylan wishes the flavour would be sufficient to D R O W N .
the smallest of things kill everything about dylan , rip down the walls of his fragile lie - bound psyche , lay bare every death - bringing scar that runs train tracks across his bone - laden body . all’s well && good ‘til you’re SOBBING ON THE GROUND .
‘ i can’t - i c - i can’t con - c o n t r o l it . ca - can’t - can’t - can’t S T O P- ’
the wreckage of a human , filled with cotton wool soaked with ALCOHOL && GOD - KNOWS - WHAT , rocks back && forth like a see - saw , childish && painful . unforgivable . he wishes for something his body cannot fix , for an escape sweeter than sugarcane forests && harsher than the sharpened edge of skin - slicing scalpel ; dreams of the problems of the AVERAGE JOE( instead , he is granted savagery in the form of his own wretched mind ) .
dull panic washes over archie has he arrives quickly to the conclusion that he’s made a misstep. for all of his light treas over the glass surrounding dylan, today he messed up and shattered a piece. he will bleed for it.
he looks away, half-hiding from the trace of anger he hears in his love’s voice, but stops just short of truly ducking away, only because he realizes that if anything happens, he will have earned it.
“dylan – please,” for a dreadful moment he fears those are all the words he has in him, but swallows and forced more to come. “i’m not making you tell me. these are your secrets to keep or tell. i just – i just don’t want you to be afraid of telling me anything.”
‘- i’m - i’m s o r r y . didn’t mean to yell , arch , i just - ’
both hands are running through pitch - black hair , eyes screwed TIGHT enough for the entire world to seem the same colour . hiding the tears that well . archie s h o u l d n ’ t know ( as yet , he must think of you as a NATURAL - BORN FREAK- having no information BEFORE THE DAY YOU MET ) . he will run . he will leave . but the sound of his name on archie’s lips …
it’s the sound of a distant dread , of a frustration he loathes swirled with a love he CRAVES . dylan feels F A I N T ( a feeling he is far more than acquainted with - but this is different ; like the floor has disappeared && he is floating , weightless , among every word he has left unspoken ; buoyant among his own cursed lies && memories ) . he curses himself , under his breath , pulls away to sit , cross - legged , against the side of the tatty futon - type - thing he calls a bed , HEAD HANGING .
‘it all hurts the same . i don’t … i really don’t know where to begin . ’
briefly he considers a smartass comment, a cheeky passing mention of being a dream. but he thinks better of it – thankfully – and remembers how he could occasionally need a hand deciding what is and is not real.
“i am,” he promises with a nod. “i’m very real, baby. you can open your eyes and i’ll be right here and everything.” feeling his shudder, he broadens his motions, rubbing at his shoulders as if that would keep dylan warm, quietly shushing him. “it’s okay.”
finally being BLESSED with eye contact, his smile deepens and falls into something less charming, but more genuine. suddenly he worries about every possibly bad detail – left-crooked nose // lopsided jaw // permanently darkened lids // scarred lips –
“if you’re desperate, then god only knows what i am,” he chuckles, inching closer as if to pass the laughter to dylan. “you have me, you know. if you want me, i’m here. this can last as long as you want it to, and you can call it and me anything.”
bottom lip is clamped between teeth , the blunt force blissful as the corners become a wretchedly BRILLIANT smile . hands on his shoulders feel w a r m , a softness he’s seen but never quite known ; a beauty he’s heard of but never quite felt . breaths come stutteringly , but peacefully - instincts of LOOK OVER YOUR SHOULDER // EYES IN THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD // KEEP ONE EYE ON THE DOOR all but vanishing from his mind .
calm like no other , relentlessly terrified eyes glaring u p // u p // u p , taking every detail into an elephant’s memory - charlie’s face will not leave him , n o m a t t e r w h a t; delicate fingers move to stroke the healed hairline fractures of his skull .
‘ i … don’t deserve you . ’
spoken from the heart , even as body refuses to let charlie stray more than a foot - deserving && WANTING are two very different things . they’re close enough for dylan to drape an arm around the back of charlie’s neck , inner elbow falling into the nook between collarbone && neck . a silent don’t go , in the form of a quick kiss to the corner of the boxer’s jaw .
there IS disappointment, but not in any way that can be detected on his face. it’s disappointment in the world, not the beautiful man before him. archie has carefully crafted a vision of the world that is pure and beautiful, and it has let him down yet again. it hasBETRAYED HIM by instilling so much pain in someone he loves.
“my love, please. you’re safe here. i won’t make you tell me, but – i won’t run away if you do.”
‘ archie , i - ’
a deep sigh , a feeling of failure ( still too afraid to let loose even a breath without making all appropriate adjustments to his own body ) . eyes close , teeth that struggle not to sharpen biting down on his lower lip . they’re in HIS APARTMENT , the red strings that connect everything to everything else , inextricably obsessive , drag him along - his face falls , head drops . the familiar pain of his spine shifting resurfaces .
‘F U C K , okay . where d’you wanna start ? the PICTURES ? the BONES ? the fuckin’ … fuckin’ SCARS ? y’got a bunch to choose from - PICK YOUR P O I S O N . ’
he cannot help laughter – always his reaction to getting hit, to getting knocked down and winded by something, no matter it be a FIST or a KISS. it’s quiet and unsure, with the effort of attempting to hold it back. surely laughter is not the appropriate response to finally kissing someone.
it stops with a breath, an attempt to hold back a gasp, as cold fingers thread over his scalp. he’d shiver anyway; his skull is fragile, stapled // glued // scotch taped together. but dylan’s touch freezes so sweetly.
eyes focus again on the other, on his almost-maybe-one-day love, and his smile falters. dylan appears as the vision of a ghost, and suddenly charlie remembers he has eight years of brain damage building up. suddenly he’s afraid he’s made himself a vivid dream. how else could dylan speak through such dead lips?
then at last he speaks again, and he’s given some hope.
“the hell are you thanking me for?” he attempts to put into words how finally his skull no longer aches, how finally he’s feeling something like peace, but all that comes are murmurs. his own twisted and bruised hand reaches up to rest briefly over dylan’s, a silent plea to never leave that spot.
“you’re the one putting me back together. you’re making this worth it.”
‘ you’re REAL . ’
uttered like a lost soul , throat so used to screaming now CHOKING on his own words as chapped lips form them . such a loose grip on reality , his fingers fumbling to grip to the cliff’s edge - palm lays flat against charlie’s skull , marvels at his warmth even now , as his soft breath makes its way across dylan’s sentimental cheek ( chewed on the inside , pale && painful on the out - even charlie’s restrained gasp eases him ) . eyes refuse to open , stubbornly fooled into imagining perfection in WHERE THIS COULD GO - stop , dylan ; you’re falling far too fast , too far ; you’re going to leave yourself with nothing // nothing // n o t h i n g-
oh , but what can you do once you are falling except fall a little more ? hopelessly , helplessly , he shudders , breath passing green - grey lips with yet another relaxation of his every bone . these delights are self - fabricated ; if he could dream a dream so sweet he would suspect it . never has he had a first kiss so beautiful , so tender && unexploitative , one not in a bar nor in his bedroom ; never has he had a LOVE so pure .
every piece of him wants to touch , to be touched , to just F E E L , for once in his goddamn life - dylan does not believe in god , that a omnipotent benevolent being could exist and still allow such evil to take place . THIS WORLD IS HORRIFIC ( perhaps charlie’s mere existence could make each day just a little more b e a r a b l e) .
soft sigh is greeted by a beautifully crooked smile , eyes fluttering finally to stare at the other’s face ( this close up , each detail is even more M A R V E L L O U S) . dylan doesn’t remember feeling anything this REAL .
‘ it’s like … it’s like i’m d e s p e r a t e , or something , but i … you don’t make me want to DIE , is all . ’
he tries not to but it’s instinct now, to take a survey of body language and facial expression. is he happy? is archie doing something right? is he tense, is he angry, is he upset? should archie fix something? when will he raise his hands to him? when will archie be bruised next?
calm down. you’re safe here.
archie has made a similar motion, doubled over to protect his chest, to keep his heart from bursting out. to hide something.
“you don’t have to hide anything, you know. i don’t want you to feel that you have to.”
‘ i got a lot of secrets , arch . y’don’t wanna know . ’
sordid eyes tear themselves away even from giving him the pleasure of knowing he’s there , entire body turning from archie’s own , p u l l i n g h i m s e l f a w a y just to avoid the disappointed gaze . dylan’s goddamn secrets would RUIN whatever it is they have , pull out its roots before it can grow any further - he can’t let that happen // he WON’T .
there is a scar beneath charlie’s shirt, too – splitting him in half, starting just beneath his neck, ending just above his navel, dark and rough to the touch – and he has no hope of hiding the thrill that shudders over his skin at the closeness to it, even with fabric between dylan’s touch and his own skin.
( it has been a thought in his head his whole life that the scar hurts // aches // stings. now, it feels something like relief. )
charlie can’t help but smile, playfully turning half-away. leave the pinkish smear on his lips forever. let it be his own signature now. but he gives in and lets it be wiped away, if only to feel dylan’s touch again.
“of course it’s alright,” he confirms, stealing a softer, quicker kiss. “it’s PERFECT. you’re perfect.”
the smile fades slightly after the second kiss - morphing into quiet contentment && contemplation- his own lips once again their U N N A T U R A L P A L E , a pallor only known to the malnourished && the dead . breaths come sharp && fast through teeth clamped together like a vice . dylan’s skin is ice - cold - but charlie’s is warm to the touch , beautiful , && unimaginable . softly , gently , digits flow one by one into marvellous hair , take their own paths to run along charlie’s scalp like the only route they can take is to retreat further into the boy’s body , to take his smile && become one with it once again ; to love him how dylan cannot expect or predict .
HE FEARS LOVE , avoids it like it will plot his inevitably endless downfall , like emotion will cloud his judgement enough to l u l l h i mi n t o l o v e&& tear it away just when every other support system ( no matter how unhealthy ) has been pulled from under his tremoring legs . clinging on with death - like talons to his hell - shaped addictions , falling in love all while simultaneously killing himself slowly -
smile reblooms // forehead is pulled like gravity to meet softly with his // eyes flutter shut . metaphorically forked tongue moves over his own lips , smearing away any darned lipbalm left - it’s staining the skin around both mouths , taking its time to seep under skin && poison-
charlie remains neutral in his face, but his heart is breaking and racing at once. dylan is FAR TOO BEAUTIFUL to be doing this to himself, and the teeth are otherworldly and terrifying.
but he is still dylan.
the words hit him hard, and as always when he’s hit, his first instinct is to laugh away the pain of it. a half smile shakes across his lips with the effort of holding it back.
charlie has collapsed lungs and vomited blood in the ring and broken his nose // cheekbone // jaw // orbital bone // brow enough times to count on both hands twice and has fractured his skull, has lied in a hospital bed dead to the world for weeks. this is nowhere close to broken.
“dylan – i get hit for a living. i’m okay.” gentle hand wraps tighter around the wrist and brings it to his cheek. “feel – it’s just a bruise. you didn’t break anything. it’s okay.”
the touch makes him shiver , forces CARPAL && METACARPAL && PHALANGE && HAMATE && ULNA && RADIUS to shift against the softly purpling skin that is charlie’s BEAUTIFUL cheek . he cannot bring himself to wipe away the blood that stains his own , even as it begins to dry && pain him with every move . he breathes heavy breaths .
cloudy eyes struggle to find focus , flick between each && every twitching finger , but evade his gaze . he yearns for sanity , for peace && a painless existence . wishes for the ability to take a single breath without breaking , to live for even a second without wanting to die . but wishes just don’t work . muttered apologies leak out between sharpened teeth && bloody lips .
‘i’msorryi’msorryi’msorryi’msorry - ’
it is not okay . this will never be okay . dylan will never forget his sins .
dylan thought he was getting better , that archie’s mere presence has made him feel so at ease that he could sleep without waking up SOBBING && SCREAMING- perhaps that’s why he’s been lying again , petulantly && obsessively hiding it while slowly getting more && more tired ; he stopped asking archie to stay a while ago . too afraid , too guilty . but crushing horror has taken hold of him once again , taken too much of him away && left him shaken && empty . back to barely surviving .
eyes lock shut at the question , painfully holding back tears as he struggles to keep it all in , refusing to look at his darling happiness in case he’ll be able to tell , see through the lies . hands are shaking . he tries to hide the pain , wipes a veiled hand across his face .
‘ n - no . ‘ course not . would’a … would’a told you , wouldn’ i ?’
archie feels remarkably watched, but for once it isn’t a cause for alarm or fear. for once, it makes him blush comfortably. for once, he feels absolutely no need ( or even a desire ) to hide.
“‘i do not ask for anymore delight. i swim in it, as if in a sea.’”
he supposes that maybe dylan is deserving of archie’s own words, rather than the words of dead poets. but he can’t bring himself to hold back the words as they bubble up from his heart, things dylan deserves to hear, he reckons.
decidedly happy with the affection he’s gotten just far, he drops his hand from dylan’s wrist, eyes taking a quick survey of the other.
“what are you looking at?” he wonders, truthfully.
archie’s poetry - reciting paints a smirk on his lips prettier than candyfloss at a fair ( being not - at - all well - read , it never fails to please && surprise him in good measure ) . but knowing now that archie realises he’s watching , his eyes decide to flutter downward , arms to wrap around his own lower ribs . it isn’t his fault that archie makes his HEART LEAP , but he can hide && ignore the all - too - obvious emotion ( it’s SAFER ) .
‘ i don’t know . just … you . ’
that’s a STUPID thing to say . makes no fucking sense whatsoever . not to mention he knows exactly the answer - it was the corners of his lips , the colour of his eyes && each && every fleck that resides within them , the tiny speckling of his stubble , the beautiful upturning creases that appear when he’s happy . he was looking at EVERYTHING && NOTHING .
heyo! my name's spencer! i'm 17 & from england. i go to college & i have a part time job, so please be patient with me! i also have a few mental health issues, but i'm trying my hardest! my inbox & ims are always open to anyone, whether it's to plot, ask questions, or just to chat! if you ever need to talk to someone, hit me up! i'm always here to help!
rules : personal
O N E -- no drama or hate, and no vagueblogging. i have severe anxiety and a delusional disorder, and i will unfollow you without warning if you vagueblog, even if it’s not about me (i may think it is). T W O -- please tag your triggers. this is quite a triggering blog, and i will tag accordingly with ’trigger //’ (tell me if i don’t tag something & i’ll fix it), and i’d be extremely thankful if you did the same! my specific triggers are: abuse, food, eating disorders, self harm, jump scares, ableism, and suicide. T H R E E -- if you have a problem with me, please tell me outright. it’d ease my mind massively & help me improve myself! i’m autistic & i struggle with intentions, implications, and tones of speech. i might mess up! i’m human! but i want to fix my mistakes. F O U R -- feel free to ask questions about me or my muse. i love to have the opportunity to inform & explain, and even to build more upon my character!
rules : roleplay
O N E -- please tag your nsfw. i don't roleplay it myself, & i don't particularly want it coming up on my dash. however, i'm not removing the possibility of dylan having sex within relationships, and i don't want to limit ships because of this - i'm okay with fade to black/time jumps. T W O -- no godmodding. this includes playing my muse for me, or badly hurting or killing my muse without my permission. T H R E E -- dylan’s timeline is very flexible. i can adapt it to most fandoms without the need for aus, as long as they're modern-ish (within about 30 years of the current year). F O U R -- this is a multifandom blog. i'm familiar with a lot of fandoms, and i'm more likely to follow/interact you if i'm familiar with your character's fandom & backstory. F I V E -- mun =/= muse. dylan may do/say things that can be considered morally questionable/wrong. i, in no way, condone these acts. S I X -- memes, opens, and starter calls are open to anyone unless specified. i reserve the right not to reply if for any reason i do not want to. S E V E N -- i am so up for pre-established relationships. seriously. come @ me bro.
verses
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DISCLAIMER
the bio ahead contains POSSIBLY TRIGGERING MATERIAL.
