I will give some 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻
excuse ‘bout my 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝒋𝒖𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 of s͟u͟b͟s͟t͟a͟n͟c͟e͟ ͟ ͟a͟b͟u͟s͟e͟.͟
I’ll let you 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏, darling.
written by # amalthea.
ain’t fair. you’re meant for better than this shit.” another sob begins to build up in his throat.
he looks at charlie miserably. “and I just keep screwing it all up.”
will sinks down when directed that way and leans his back against the wall. his whole body shivers as if he can’t get warm but he’s coated in sweat.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he moans, putting his face into his hands. “it ain’t right. —
a sob bubbles out of will’s chest: small, frightened, almost childlike. what horrors had chased him here?
“I’m sorry,” he manages to choke out, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.
through tears, his eyes manage to focus on charlie. —
he watches the rise and fall of their chest, listens to the inhale, the exhale. his sobs die down to whimpers which die down to shaky sounds as he tries to breathe.
inhale, hold. exhale, hold.
his bottom lip still quivers. he jerks —
tears begin to struggle past the tightly closed eyes.
he shakes his head.
“sorry, sorry, sorry.”
sorry excuse for a friend, for a 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅.
he puts his hands on his face.
will comes tumbling through the door. he stands there, in the middle of this entry, shaking and twitching and looking around.
he almost never goes through the door.
and now he’s in here. it briefly occurs to him through a fog addled —
brain that he had no idea when he got here if charlie’s dad was or wasn’t home. if he had been, will could have been the cause of hell falling down on charlie’s head.
charlie’s asking him a question. his lips purse, his eyes close, —
what is he doing here?
that is the million dollar question. what’s a piece of shit like will graham doing on this angel’s doorstep? who does will graham think he is to stand here in front of someone who embodies everything that —
rubs the arm like there’s something on him.
“I don’t —- I don’t know,” he manages, his voice rising, falling, becoming a low rumble. his accent is thick, too.
bright blue eyes are wild and confused and 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝.
“I don’t —- there —
batch has him seeing stars, has him seeing shadows, has him 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞.
a fist bangs pleadingly on @hisbecoming’s door.
and there is will graham. looking like a ghost got him.
nothing feels 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 anymore.
between his new … extracurricular activities —- the fishing trips, the late nights in the dark corners of the trailer park, the lonely moments in his home —- and the 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 of charlie dean, will —
has reached new depths.
he told himself he’d stay away. it was for their benefit. he was only going to hold them back. look at him!
he’s no good and everybody knows it. except charlie. charlie’s an angel. and will’s damned.
a bad —