unbearable, trent alexander-arnold

¹⁰in a loop

september, thirtieth.

TRENT KEPT THINKING ABOUT HIS BROTHER'S WORDS, in fact, they were in a loop in his mind. marcel could sometimes say dumb shits, but he felt like this time he was way too serious to be joking about it, and trent had realised that he was even probably right. people who didn't know them certainly thought that they were together, and as he watched his room, the evidence was even more clear:

tosca liked to sleep with the shutters open and the shutters were open, but she wasn't even here. she also liked to sleep on the left side and trent was actually on the right side, without ever going to the other side, even if he was alone. the blanket smelled like her perfume, showing that she spent a lot of time here. on the bedside table was her book next to the glasses that she wore to read. there was even an empty cup of tea that she had drunk.

he smiled softly when he saw the underwear on the floor — probably from their last frolics — that she had not picked up. further, you could see her heels sticking out from the wardrobe, half of his no longer belonged to him anyway and he didn't even mind. all of her make-up was on the shelves of the bathroom, next to her toothbrush, he almost didn't have a place anymore to put his own stuff. it had become normal to find the woman's hair in his shower. and as he continued to observe his room, that's when it hit him.

he had taken her habitudes.
he had let her settle here.
he had become accustomed to her presence,
so much that it didn't even faze him that his house was almost hers.

he could put his eyes anywhere, there was inevitably something that belonged to her, or that reminded him of her.

she was everywhere.