It’s a harder affair with oneself when I see him, how people idolize him but the more people you see, the more you realize how you’re degraded to an image and soon enough the signatures become bleak and the hand no longer aches, and those who listen to how loneliness actually tastes and becomes vinegar in years don’t stay or make homophobic remarks so the more people met the lower the grave digs in order to fall and see both of them
But the question is
If I was the first upon the lips
Was I was the wisest choice?
“Jamie?” He invites me on a fucking hunting trip.
In the end no animals were killed and he just wanted an excuse of a tent so that the rain could be the barrier and his cigars took all the oxygen and my cigarettes gave a tone. Maybe it’s because we’re both men and the question is not even old, but he takes the lead and who follows when both wear the suit and the cigar and cigarettes pile up as he watches me with a smile.
Neither make a move, as we sleep cold and we don’t even spoon, waking to a cobweb with water on the zipper of the tent and food is exchanged, bought on the previous day. He’s so hidden that even I have my own doubts about him, as I watch him and I feel as if I was vegan in an entirely different life, listening that maybe lack of meat would push mania away on the phone, but it didn’t seem to give a difference at all in any stance and I was still put on medication and to disband myself untreated by the end of the day just to resume silence with myself when I was calmer. The problem is to understand when does the tipping point begin and with him it becomes a question of sole juggling as he drops me off at home and then I just sleep even more in my bed, barely tucked in and Archie in my face. And knowing some small chance is over by sheer stupidity and lack of acting from yourself is disappointing and worth sleeping more than three days in for. Because life tends to make sure everyone has an expiry date, we might have made up the concept of time, but death was surely given to us. Along with the ability of stopping to care, only I don’t know where to pull since I’m still believing, ruthlessly.
I ended up combing two chapters and writing a bit. It's always hard to write for stories which have really small chapters since I jump from chapters which are 3.6 k to 300 words frankly xD
My hand has randomly decided to fuck up, so my hand hasn't been working too well (and I mostly write with my right hand) and I'm also wrapped up in a cold and I've been having horrid mood swings, mixed episodes, mania, depression, the full rollercoaster. So it's been hard because I'm so tired to sit down and write, because I go to bed so early now and I tend to write at night. I get scared at times terribly about writing, I dunno why, I just get terrified. But honestly I'm just really drained from the flu.
This is the last written chapter and I dunno, I get nervous when I don't get feedback, so that's why it's been pushed away for so long. I started writing the next chapter and I think just like now I was in a love depressed state if you must, so that just underlines the Jack/Jamie not happening sort of thing.
I figured stuffed animals could mean he perhaps hunts as well x)
I also chose this to spare my hand and slowly get back to writing proper back stories, I'll try to go back to my one a day, yay x)
I think the story speaks for itself and the last bit, adding ruthless I realized that frankly it gives some Baby Ruthless vibe, I guess, so it was quite ambigious to keep it there even if it wasn't intended but makes me think onwards, so kept x) and yeah, I honestly hope you liked it :3
Tell me if you did :3