fifty shots for the stars (tgwdlm//bf)

unwritten

charlotte and sam. sfw. word count: 565

~

the clock, a tool used to measure time either at the moment, how long something has been, or how long something will take. clocks have been ticking all around her, the number digits changing each second, each minute, each hour - her life wasting away, her past holding on. even in the room that felt stuffy, felt cold and bitter with an uneasy, tense vibe, there a clock was hung - tick. tock.  tick. tock. it was mocking her, mocking her that soon the metal band that caressed the skin of her finger will be dubbed useless. meaningless.

symbols of love have been drowned out for an amount of clock ticks she lost count of, that once childish feeling of butterflies in her stomach or the reddening of her cheeks has been missing for years. too many years. she didn't feel any sort of way when her eyes grazed over to him, whether he stepped his dirty boots into the home that smelt of candle wax and cats, or he brought his frame down on the cloud-like covers of their bed; there was nothing. mind did not spark in overwhelming happiness, heart did not beat a thousand miles an hour.

all those ticks, all those tocks, all the clocks that she's seen only prove her thought that so much time has slipped from her delicate fingertips. the younger version of the currently empty shell could be described as blind, such a blind fool. her hope, her dream, her wish was far too selfish of her to pray among the stars - the universe punished her, pretending to pause time to strike down on her by taking away her wishes, her dreams, her hopes. but time ticked away, no matter how you looked at it.

for a while, she wanted every single clock to be destroyed. taken away from her presence, shielded from her wet and irritated eyes. but that's impossible, the world runs on the construct as if it was caffeine, a sickening drug. dates, deadlines, timelines, appointments, whatever else always came down to the core of time itself. when her mind was overcome with bleak thoughts, she'd believe the arms of a clock were wrapping itself around her; the numbers tattooing themselves on her sensitive, bruised skin.

the loud ticking rang in her ears, the noisy dongs marking when it had turned a new hour haunting her even as she is awake. the dates of each and every single desire of hers forever marked in her brain, injected in her memories until she dies a lonely yet painful death. despite the thudding in her head each time the hands stepped around the white canvas, the smell of the fresh ink and noise of a new pen scribbling on paper kept her focus on the present. words spilling from in front of her, quiet noises in acknowledgement besides her.

"miss vynn? are you all right?" asked the attorney in front of her, who had synced up the tapping of his foot to the ticking clock, unintentionally. that damn ticking clock. shifting in her seat, charlotte lifted her head and spared him a gentle - so gentle - smile, nodding to confirm she was okay. even during this legalization process, even tracing the phrases on documents that she was content, even sitting right there deep in her mind without paying close attention to what was happening... her despair would go unwritten.