𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 -bob dylan

─ 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

"i'm bored"

it was a simple statement, one she never thought he would take such a disassociation for. yet he did. a small scoff sat still in the air that encased them. the sky suddenly wasn't the only blue surrounding, now he was one.

"if i bore you, just leave, dammit."

the hostility was dragged from somewhere she couldn't see. in all honesty she didn't know where this sudden need to be offensive came from. she really believed she had said nothing wrong. it wasn't like she could predict the sequence of actions he would take if she spoke a certain sentence or a single word.

"i, i didn't mean to offend you robert," not once had he ever heard her speak with such timidness, but here she was, speaking with profound demurral.

waves of aggravation crashed down and rolled over the once breeze-like loosened man. that once clear shade of composure seemed to be was washed away by the horrid clouds that shot down over him with their strikes of antagonism.

and he glared at her. this time it was no spine-tingling sensation of being pierced by a lovers eyes. no, the exact opposite. to her it felt something based around fear. her heart began shaking relentlessly as her eyes scattered around until the found a comfortable resting place in her lap.

although for a moment she had kept eye contact. she heard many times, so many times to the point it became irritatingly repetitive, that stares spoke more than words. yet the man next to her must've been fluent in something other the language she was brought up with. as it was like decoding gibberish. impossible. unless, well, you understand it. but no one clearly understands gibberish. that's why it's called gibberish.

it happened so quickly then. the actions he took. she couldn't remember the feelings she had felt. the sensation of panic or fearfulness. but it happened, she knew that.

in a matter of seconds of her refocusing her gaze onto her lonesome lap, his fingers clutched around her jaw. tightly, grasping the skin and whipping her face to look straight at his own.

"how many times must i remind you, there is no more fucking robert," he never exclaimed nor did he shout. but the brewing tone of rising death made the car feel like a morgue at midnight. her stomach began to shrivel in eerie and her eyes widened with a small nod that only spoke of her uneasiness.

he allowed his fingers to ease around her jaw, pulling them away. oddly enough, she missed the touch of him. the feeling she received when he let go of her skin felt achingly solemn- but at the same time she despised herself for it. it felt toxic, horrid.

only one sound was audible in their time of swerving into lines: the constant sound of dull breathing. which, belonged to robert. deep inside her façade centered around her "i'm okay" expression, she was hoping for an apology. she had done nothing wrong and she knew this, so how come he hadn't owned up to his mistakes yet?

he was stubborn. she knew this better than anyone. he banged his own drum and followed the tune that erupted, he preached people to do the same but when they copied his own rhythm he disowned them along with what he taught them.

however, one could argue that the silver lining in this thunderous cloud would be the lights that illuminated onto her frail complexion. which- he now noticed.

not once had she ever appeared to be frail or pale or any tone that was close to any shade of a ghost. yet, now she was. he couldn't spot the sun's glow in her complexion. not even in the rainbow pores or the speckled freckles that rested on the tip of her nose and cascaded down the sides.

looking at her: he saw a canvas that once beheld a breath taking piece of work that he had now destroyed, ripping it to shreds and letting the once masterpiece become something only of a memory.

the next actions he followed through with could've ended either way, the chance of her reacting positively was slim, slimmer than mr. jones.

so, he followed through with his impulsions. his hand was gentle as he grazed it across her jawline, grasping her attention in the palm of his hand.

she flinched for a moment, the wants of his touch soon fluttering away as she timidly looked into his eyes, that now were soft and porcelain. they shined like freshly soaked china, only this time they were glossed by the guilt.

his guilt.