𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢

𝟸𝟺. 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗

In your line of eager, searching sight, the cave of all wonders appears, guided here by the patient lead of Jean Kirstein.

Rooting yourself in place before it, the sun unhooks from its gravity and falls from the sky, landing in your eyes. They pull. They widen. They burn in a way that warms the rest of you with the type of solace you've been searching for in each attic and under every floorboard that the body of this universe holds.

The type of solace you've come up empty in trying to find each and every time.

Until now.

Taking a breath, basking in this feeling you are nearly a stranger to, two worlds transform. The one you're standing upon and the one that lives inside the walls of your palpitating heart that you thought had burned to ash and dust due to the fiery hell you call your past.

The glowing sun behind you, which is very slowly starting to lower in preparation to trade places with the waiting moon, has cast its golden rays upon the jagged entrance that's carved out as the shape of a half oval, painting shadows against the large grey surface.

On your fourth breath taken, all of which have for some reason been a little bit labored, three taps to your right hand occur, each burning more profusely than the last.

You glance down to ensure the limb remains intact with the rest of you, fearing it might have charred away if you were betting on feeling alone.

That's when you see all the muscles of Jean's hand harshly flex. His elongated fingers twitch as though he's been shocked with a quick jolt of electricity, as it remains dangling next to yours, not more than a hairbreadth apart.

Is there a chance that you are lingering on him too? The way he is you?

Or are you simply manipulating your mind into seeing what a part of you is starting to want to see so badly?

Maybe it's the latter. It has to be. Right?

Because since when has your effect on someone been of any sort of significance? Something worth even a small reaction such as that?

Never. Not once in your damn life.

Your brain reverts, acting independently as it always does. The deadly machine that it is, hastily reminding you of what you are and all you'll ever be—Replaceable. Insignificant. Boring.

Don't you dare think otherwise. You foolish, forgettable little girl.

Pushing your tongue into the roof of your mouth, you take your running questions and your own conclusions to them and swallow them whole like the bitter curse that they are. There's a burning sensation presenting itself in your throat when you do. You try not to focus on it too much.

A shallow sigh floats out of your parted lips to help alleviate the weight on your chest placed there by your own hands that simply won't allow you to be fair to yourself.

Drawing your head, that's wearing lightweight on your shoulders thanks to all the weed streaming through the riverbeds of your veins, over to the right and upward. Sluggish eyes trekking up, see Jean's nose dropped in your direction, eyes, just slightly red, engulfing you.

One blink from him. Soft. And the pressure holding your chest prisoner is set free. "The cave," is what he says, voice so gentle it rounds the street of being a mumbled whisper. "Just as you wished."