『Ｓｔａｒｔ？』

𝔉𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢: 𝔗𝔞𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔮𝔞

Taharqa and his twin lived in twain
Hate and love were combined;
Live and Love were
two
different things,
So he seemed to say.
"Then," started one,
"Why is one burrowed into the other?"
"It isnt." He answers.
Simple, considering
"Love doesn't belong to life. It was created as such, as a purpose for others to
live."
Philosophical as per usual, Taharqa
bore a grin, paired with intent orbs.
They'd held mystery and secrecy quite clearly; he wondered if anyone had noticed before.

Taharqa, or, Tarek for short,
considered himself
flawed,
one too many flaws for it to even be considered character.
"Flaws are character;
i'm just downright annoying"
Its always paired with a smile, and others laugh, subject-changing.
He loves his friends, he does, but he wonders if
its mutual.

A particularly bad day leaves him laughing. Laughing;
lips contorted into a joyful grin, head lulled back. Tears glisten,
then prick, then gleam,
streaming.
Particular friends look concerned, others, laugh in response. "Are you crying?"
"No," through giggles
"I just thought of something
funny"
His eyes, intent eyes, are deemed believable- nothing more is discussed.

"There's love in death, too."
"Why would you say so?"
His fingers drum across his desk,

left

to

right

as theres a following
silence-
"I just do." Curiously intent
eyes.
He wonders what has peaked his curiosity.
A question of deep thought peaks my own.
"I've never seen you angry."
"There's no need to be."
Furrowing eyebrows, gentle bob of an Adams apple. Swallowing.
"Why?"
His questions are intrusive.
"Everyone has a reason behind their actions."
Simple and quick to the point, though
his mouth remains
dry.

he messages his friends almost daily, in touch as he likes to be. scared of getting attached, on their nerves.

Tarek: "settled then, 12?"

Korbyn: "yep, mine?"

Tarek: "yesss"

Promises are made, short and binarised.
Breaking them is a bad, bad habit in tarek's humble opinion. Yet, breaking them
With poor excuses
is the
easiest, easiest
let down.

And now, even now,
Hes sat there
Listening to
Malicious melodies until
His ears itch.
"Breathe,"
He repeats,
Repeats,
While chipping off a piece of himself.
Chip. Chip.

"Want some chips?"
Shake, he replies,
Watching
Until his stomach
Churns sick.

"Sick,"
Mentions Taharqa.
"Can't, sorry."
Could, but couldn't.
His mind
『Captured 』
His body,
Gave him no chance
Of being

Ｆｒｅｅ.

"What is free?"
"False hope
for the captured."

Ｃｏｎｔｉｎｕｅ?

★ＹＥＳ
☆ＮＯ

𝕱𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖉.