Author: SingViolence PM
The chains of freedom gripped so tightly I couldn't breathe. *rated for alcohol and cigarettesRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 430 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Published: 06-18-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2819348
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I knocked on the door to your home, from the echoing sounds of rock music; I assumed you would never hear me. Stretching upwards my finger tips traced the ledge of the door, brushing against a key, and dust. I guess you didn't mind me coming in, since you hadn't even bothered to move the key. I slid the key in and shoved the door open, honestly surprised that you had actually locked it. You lazed in the front room, staring at the ceiling, drunkenly mouthing the words of the song. I hardly believed you had moved in days—months, I'd dare say years if I had never seen you before.
Was it really that hard? The bottles and cans littered the coffee table; I smiled slightly of the fond memory. We'd found it out of luck on the side of the road; fix it up, you said. Nothing like bonding over choking on saw dust. The door slid shut behind me, you were well aware of my presence, but continued to stare, as if I weren't worth the effort to move. Or, perhaps you knew I understood, therefore weren't forced to move. I sat upon the floor in front of you, winding my legs around the leg of the coffee table. I began to stack the beer cans, making pyramids with them, it was probably a bad idea, it told me you'd had too much, but I wasn't able to stop you anymore. I continued to stack, pretending you weren't there, as you were me.
Eventually, around my third pyramid, you leaned forward. I heard the familiar flick of a lighter, felt the poisonous smoke mix with my oxygen. I gave up on my metal Egypt and leaned back, staring up at you with the back of my head resting on the cushion of the couch, casually you slipped a cigarette between my lips. The familiar action nearly destroyed my insides as you brought the lighter to the tip. I inhaled a sweet misery, exhaling worry and stress. You brushed your brown hair back, only to have it fall forward again, another swig out of the bottle, another drag of your cigarette, and I felt at home again. Oh why did I ever leave? I wanted to be free, but the chains of freedom gripped so tightly I couldn't breathe. So, I returned to the only place I knew, with my tail between my legs. You sensed my consuming comfort, exhaling smoke you smirked for a millisecond.