TWH: Word Prompt Challenges

But you can't give your heart to a wild thing.

"You know what your problem is?"

Tom is drunk. Not to nitpick but so are you. Loquacious when sober, he's even worse when drunk... But when he gets drunk, as with most, his ability to censor himself flies right out the window.

"Yes, but I know you're about to tell me your opinion about it."

"Your problem is–" he carries on, the response as of yet unprocessed by his pickled brain, "–is that you love the wrong things."

You puff out a breath. Wrong. What you love is wrong? You open and close your mouth once, sounds failing you. He's too busy downing the beginnings of another drink that he shouldn't be having so you have time to find something to say. Though you heard him well enough you hear yourself reply with an indignant question. "Come again?"

He waves one of his hands at you, thankfully not the one holding his drink so you don't run the risk of being splashed with the liquid. He thinks you want further explanation. "You love freely. Just the - ah, hey - stop frowning and hear me out on this. It's easy to love the wrong things."

Breathing out through your nose you continue to scowl at him. You can multitask. Your ability to listen to him isn't impaired by a simple glare. "I'm listening. This is unhappy listening."

"Unhappy listening." That concept makes him grin a bit. He gives his head a shake, wobbles in his chair, and starts again. "But love. Yea. Love. You love. People... Not saying that. Just not deep enough. Not to the point of..." Another wave of his hand, this time the one with the drink in it, but he's guzzled enough down that it isn't in danger of decorating you or the floor of the bar. "–er, something. But things..." Now he attempts to fix you with a glare, but his eyes are too glossed over - the result of numerous drinks - for the look to have the desired effect. "Don't even get me started on the loving of things."

"You know not everyone has the luxury to just cleave themselves from all their worldly possessions and jetset around the world." His accusations sting for so many reasons. You're sitting here listening to this nonsense why? You seek out your bag, determined to root around and find the money to pay your half of the bill and leave him to turn that insight on someone else. Maybe you should tell him to go find a mirror. "You know what? Thanks for the insight, Tom."

"Now you're mad."

"As hell."

He finally unlocks the death grip he's had on his glass, setting it aside to focus on you. "Please. Wait. I was just..."

Heaven forbid someone leave his presence unhappy. "Letting off steam. Making a point at my expense. I know." You stop struggling with your bag, "And to answer your question with more honesty than it deserves, yes, I know what my problem is. And it isn't that I don't love deeply, or that I love things. Thanks for that, by the way. I'll own materialistic if you'll own..."

No, even drunk you can't say that to him. Your own glass is sitting practically empty so you claim his, down the rest of it in one large gulp, and signal for another. A taxi will be needed to get you home. Definitely.

"What? If I own what?"

You shake your head, "Nothing. You were right, Tom. You are right. I love the wrong thing. Always have. But sometimes people love things, and people, that they shouldn't. Sometimes we fall in love with a force of nature, a wild thing that can't be tamed. But... but you can't give your heart to a wild thing, Tom. They don't know what to do with what they've been given. They're just as likely to tear it to shreds, just to see what it would taste like, as they are to guarding it."