| "don't just make up a random day." "like.. like monrenairaday?" |
overcommitted myselfThe guitar is like a gift in his arms, and William can't help but regard it with awe. His fingertips slide along the frets like he's stroking them, and the sound purrs in his ears. He smiles, patting the instrument carefully, before dragging his thumb over the strings. Footsteps ruin his perfect moment, and he glances up, prepared to glare at the intruder. Hugging the guitar closer to his body, William already resents whoever is coming for him - can't they tell he's busy?overcommitted myself
Andrew Mrotek isn't a name you'll hear often on the TAI tour bus. It's never really been official, but as long as everyone c
the day we broke the sunit was one of those days in the summer when the phone could wring my neck, i could care less if there's no answerthe day we broke the sun
(and everyone seems much further sunk into broken summer songs)
we climbed through windows to hit the roof and beckon down the sky with burning hands we turned the world and like a long drag we let the smoke rise easy
(dripping through plains with pots and paper cups we came with burdens)
fought with squirt guns and heavy hearts, let the water break a sweat on flushed faces and rain choked the sky until our skin
-i still feel her"I love her." He cries, his eyelids drawn tightly shut and his back arching with the effort of the words, his ears humming with them until they are lost on the wind once more. His fingertips dig further into the material of his hoodie, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, partly just to stop himself from falling apart. His stomach drops as he sways forwards, his feet clinging to the floor with enough force to break through the cement covering the apartment roof. His breathing comes in short, fast gulps, and his hands numb with the effort of holding himself together. The buzz of the traffic a huni still feel her
Dying To Reach YouWhen Anthony says "I'm getting married," each letter that makes up the words feels intertwined with thorns. It's a mean, pricking joke that jabs at Craig's heart.Dying To Reach You
Though, he doesn't show it.
He says, "Oh. Oh, yeah."
After that, it's hard to touch. It's hard to be the second best, the sin. It's even harder to know about it. It's not easy to close his eyes and let Anthony drip word after sung word against his ear. Not easy to enjoy it anymore. Craig, he can tolerate it enough because it's Anthony. Singing. Singing for him, for Craig. At the very least, it feels a little right. &n
| "don't just make up a random day." "like.. like monrenairaday?" |
MY HANDS FALL ALL OVER YOU,
Angsty
and nobody here knows my name.
--
ellennn: but what do we call it? crendon?
--
Sunny Deee ftw, Nora :]
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