messy sketchbooks

confession.

TW: death references

(on repeat while writing)

heal by tom odell 

the curse - agnes obel

let it all go - RHODES, birdy

you thought you knew him, or at least were starting to get to know him. you thought the move in, the putting up with all your games would somehow melt his heart a little more than he decided to let on.

but when those words left your mouth, he froze.

deadpanned his hazel orbs stared right into your own, glaring you down in a way that could shake an enemy.

but you weren't going to let him shut you out again. not like the beginning, when he asked you to leave. or the countless times he'd leave you shaking and isolated after he was 'done with you'.

you deserved the truth.

you waved your hand in front of him to try and grab his attention, looking as if he'd shifted realities and was unable to break the void and hear this old world.

"kylo. i'm trying to talk to you"

nothing.

the abyss of silence was beginning to deafen and echo around the living room. his blinkered lids subtly moving to and fro, fixated on the floor. twitches in his eyes could describe to you that he was thinking. of what to do, or what to say. 

you gave out a large sigh after waiting well over five minutes in the old silence that began to become familiar to you almost. and started daintily picking up the sprawled chess pieces that lay idly on their sides of the marble floor. trying to keep your mind busy, black pawn, white pawn. your hands were shaking, murmuring curse words under your breath while doing so. rummaging around trying to find the last white queen, it lay gentile near his crouched knee. 

you reached out and his hand fell onto yours. stopping you from closing the game box and comfortably placing the queen back into the world of mixed stranger pieces. 

he didn't say a word, not even a whisper of a sentence. but held out his opposing hand for you to take. you were confused by the intimate action, that you believed would lead to more sex, solving the countless problems. you hesitated to take it, unsure of his doings or actions without the murmur of any syllable. 

"please.."

a tear rolled from his right eye, and the quiver of this lip began to form. two signs that his barricades were trying to lower in confrontation of his regular primitive behaviour. 

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