a^2 ) skin-writing, flower-stealing n a gifted heart

[ruse]

ｏｎｅ－ ｏｎ－ ｏｎｅ ｂｅｔｗｅｅｎ ａｌｌｅｒ ｎ ａｆｆｉ

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typical 'boy meets girl'
with some elements added
in which the girl's dead bf
donated his heart to fore-
mentioned boy and girl is
still salty about the dead
guy dying prematurely b-
ut! the boy with the loaner
heart? he's doing swell tho
but someone's been steali-
ng his flowers? surprise, s-
urprise; it's the girl who's
stealing 'em. and then th-
ere's something about sou-
lmates and skin-writing in-
volved? like the girl keeps
waking up with random
words on her body? ok may-
be not exactly typical but
close enough, right?

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[ruse]

┌───────────┐

│
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`
'
.'if there's a light at t-.'.`
''.he end, it's just the.''...
.`'sun in your eyes ;;...'`'

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│
└───────────┘
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she's strong, she's smart, res-
ourceful; this is a mask. avy-
n's been playing the role of t-
he strong, independent girl f-
or much of her life, that she'-
s forgotten how to ask for h-
elp. she's meticulous in what
she does, careful not to break
character. tentative when it c-
omes to the matters of her h-
eart. behind her fake smiles
and clouded eyes, her tongue,
her lips speak in harsh words.
avyn is sarcastic and hothead-
ed, though she doesn't show t-
hese symptoms at first.

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`
'
./'i know you want to go..`
.`to heaven, but you're.``
.``human tonight..``

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---------'---'----name------'-----'-----
avyn henderson
-----'---'---------age --------'----'-----
soon-to-be eighteen years
--------'--------gender-------'--------
cis female
----------'-----sexuality----'-----------
bisexual

[gently]

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xxi

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┌───────────┐

│
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ｇｏｔ ｎｏｗｈｅｒｅ ｔｏ ｔｕｒｎ
ａｎｄ ｗｅ＇ｖｅ ｇｏｔ
ｎｏｔｈｉｎｇ ｂｕｔ ｔｉｍｅ

│
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│

└───────────┘
─────────────────────────
tobias james montgomery, prefers 'toby'
eighteen years of age, cisgender male
pansexual/panromantic
sufferer of congenital heart disease
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bright-eyed toby with his lopsided grin and in
credibly dorky sense of humor got off to a rou
gh start in life, having been in and out of hosp
itals since he was a baby. despite this, he's per
haps one of the cheeriest people you'll ever m
eet. he's a pro at making the best of a bad situ
ation. he hates being fussed over and doesn't t
ake things seriously enough. his verbal filter is
non-existent and he often blurts out things wit
hout thinking. asks way too many questions tbh.

x

┌───┐

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smile
the
worst
is yet
to
come
愛
we'll be
lucky
if we
ever
see the
sun

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└───┘

x

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ｉ
ｓ

ｆ
ｏ
ｒ
ｅ
ｖ
ｅ
ｒ

[ruse]

xxxxxxxxＡＶＹＮ ＨＥＮＤＥＲＳＯＮ
xxxxxxxxlighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?

xxeverything still blurred together, the days were gray and were monotonous; the colors she saw seemed to dull in comparison to her constant ache that sat on her heart like a throne. the screen on her phone read 6:00am, mimicking the clock on the wall that'd lost function and only was perched on the partition for sake of aesthetics. lazy movements, quiet shuffling of feet across the floor and towards the bathroom. another day colored like melancholy and shaded with memories. avyn released the breath she'd been holding onto, looking at the mirror staring back at her, and the reflection; brown hair, gray eyes, bags hiding under her eyes. she washed her face with a weariness more than high school tiredness or a bad case of senioritis, telling herself it'd get better, she wouldn't always feel this way, right? but the words she fed to herself in thought only felt like cheap but oddly inspirational writings of a fortune cookie from that one chinese place they used to go to on the weekends.

xxthe day seemed to move in a haze, like clouds were shadowing her eyes. like they were the sky and it was about to rain. she could feel her lips pull into a smile greeting friends, but it never reached her eyes. her writing was fluid on her notes, and a's and b's decorated the corners and tops of her papers. her way of coping seemed to combat well with schoolwork; she sought distraction in writing essays and avidly taking part of class discussion.

xxavyn found words on the back of her hand in third period, around ten and four hours into the school day; MELLIFLUOUS, it read, and she didn't remember writing anything on herself (she stopped when she knew she'd stop getting replies). the word was shaky, crooked even, and curved around her thumb, and it took her by surprise and she found herself smiling and pulling a marker from her binder to respond (her movement was a bit abrupt, most of the heads in study hall seemed to pick up at the sound of a book falling); they should be used to it, with so many people (so many people to be jealous of) walking around littered with permanent-markered words like tattoos and a gleam in their eyes saying they've found their soulmate, right? and she never thought -well, never is a strong word, something more like 'hoped but shut it down quickly' would suffix- soulmates would be able to communicate even after-death, though? it was probably too good to be true, and hell, he'd told her before so many times to stop hesitating and start taking chances, right? after all, that was how they found each other. finally stepping up your vocabulary, have you? her cursive scrawl laid underneath the trembling font.


(smol post bc i'm saving the kicker for later plus i'm rewatching rotg? also it is late and my thoughts are spilling over and i wasn't quite sure on how to start fluidly haha i found a spelling error omggg aa)

[gently]

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normality was such a foreign concept. going to school for a month or two (if he was lucky) only to have his 'circumstance' require a leave of absence was the only thing vaguely resembling normality toby had ever known. he'd come so close to falling into a comfortable routine, just an inch away from feeling at home and then it was all gone in the blink of an eye. he'd be gone for weeks at a time, receiving dollar-store 'get well soon!' cards with the names of his classmates scribbled throughout - written there solely because they'd been told to, only for toby to return when he could to find that most of those said classmates had almost forgotten he was still alive. it was all a very blunt reminder that nobody could simply hit pause on their lives and wait for him to come back - time may seemingly stop for toby but the clock would keep on ticking and his friends would continue to move on with their lives whilst he struggled to fill in the gaps that he'd left behind.

"but it could be so much worse," he'd tell himself routinely, and he was right of course. toby considered himself to be very lucky given the circumstances. he had air in his lungs and a beating heart within his chest, a less-than-impressive social life and dwindling academic success were minor bumps in the road that probably wouldn't matter in a few years anyway.

so he sat through his classes, pretending he knew how to graph bivariate data or what the key themes in the novel they're studying are. the only thing that really wound up catching his eye was the word of the day, written in bright, bold letters on the english room's whiteboard: 'MELLIFLUOUS - pleasingly smooth and musical to hear.' toby decided he liked it and scrawled it down on the back of his hand, the last few letters curving at the base of his thumb.

it wasn't until the end of the school day when he was cramming his locker with piles of catch-up papers that he'd forget about in time that he noticed the shaky script running down his wrist in response. he blinked at the arrangement of letters, the sight of the words clouding his mind for a second because toby woke up every morning with a pretty good idea of what to expect out of his day but this was unexpected and oh so exciting. he scrambled to shove the irrelevant sheets of paper within his locker aside to fish out a pen. pulling the sleeve of his jacket back a little farther to begin writing his reply. what can i say? i'm a word nerd. see also: 'phosphenes' and 'pioenrozen'. was that lame? probably. definitely. oh well, there was no going back now. he swung the door to his locker shut and made for the front doors, trying in vain to resist the urge to glance at this arm for a response.

[i feel like the quality of this post gradually
got worse but ayyyy here it is anyway]

[ruse]

xxxxxxxxＡＶＹＮ ＨＥＮＤＥＲＳＯＮ
xxxxxxxxlighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?

xxwas there something about heaven that made you more literate? hopefully, since she liked this side of him. avyn remembered having traded blows between the two of them, her telling him to study more ('you're falling behind, you'll never graduate and you're going to be stuck wearing a mcdonald's uniform and a plastered smile for the rest of your life,') and he, laughing it off; 'what about you? before you know it, your youth is gonna disappear, avvie, haven't you heard of yolo?' and she'd reply, 'yes, of course,' but she 'd blank on what the acronym actually meant at that moment (honestly, it was probably something about recklessness stretched out into four words that boy used to live by). opposites, but they had been soulmates and there had been a pull to him like the ocean and an attraction she hadn't hesitated to grab ahold of (and it was the first time she took a chance).

xxshe found herself looking for an answer when she thought no one was looking (not that they did anymore; she was popular probably once, but it faded along with the dead beau's presence) and telling herself this was low of her - he couldn't bother to at least send a sign her way for a year and a half (a little over than a half, but not that she cared, right?) but she'd drop everything to scribble a reply back as soon as she read his four times over. it was after she politely declined a close friend's invitation to go out for dinner and laser-tagging (he loved to shoot them down with a beam and a grin and he always won, too) and started the trek to her car and put her hands on the wheel and her head too, that she noticed lines on her bare wrist. she saw a lopsided smile in the side mirror, and it almost looked real and wait- was avyn henderson smiling with teeth? and it was a real smile? she pursed her lips into a pout, telling herself to calm, calm, they're just words (that put her heart to use again and pushed blood to rush to her face in a blush).

xxit was a few minutes before she could summon a reply -the girl thought she saw her hand trembling for a time (was it fear he wouldn't reply again? or excitement that he actually did?)- and she had taken to her phone notes for some of the latin words she'd have to study for the test next week? tomorrow? next month? yesterday? she couldn't care to think at the moment, she just wanted to talk to him in any way she could. really? i have never pinned u down for a 'word nerd' as u say, actually, and i've known u for how long? however, i have to admire your choice of vocabulary, though i prefer something like 'vestige' or, 'caeruleus' for a more or less foreign flair. she probably made a graffiti scene out of his wrist and part of his arm now, but what was that damn term again? (she was grasping for an acronym she'd shied away for a year and a half) yolo, yeah?

xxhere was her vestige, and she wasn't letting go this time.



(it didn't get worse tho? if anything it got better even tho i read over it like four times oops)

[gently]

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the walk home was generally pretty dull - toby's mother had certainly tried to convince him to let her drive him home but he preferred to walk; it seemed like the normal thing to do and it felt like forever since he'd wandered down these streets. a few of the classmates that he was more familiar with caught up to ask how his first day back had been but when they broke off down different streets he was alone. he found that there was some strange spark of excitement burning in his chest every time he let his gaze drift back to the words that littered his arm. after being stuck in a time loop of the same routine day after day, this new development was more than enough to make toby see the world through a brighter lens. even the vibrantly-shaded flowers that grew against the front fence of his house seemed more striking in appearance.

toby instinctively ran a hand across the center of his chest upon catching sight of the peonies. he'd never been particularly interested in botany at any point in his life but these flowers were special, they meant something to the person who happened to be the reason he was alive and he didn't ever want to forget that person. damn, i'm poetic sometimes, he thought to himself, absently tracing a finger across one of the silky petals. he made a mental note to visit the cemetery again soon, he didn't do it near enough.

upon his next glance at his graffiti'd arm he realized that a reply had appeared whilst he'd been entranced by the foliage. toby scrambled for the front door, kicking off his shoes and dashing up the stairs to his room. the lack of questions being asked and a hovering presence told him that his mother wasn't home yet and that wasn't a bad thing. she's spent so much time cooped up in the house looking after him, it was nice to think she was out doing something fun for once. toby swiped a marker from his besk and flopped onto his bed, reading the words with a grin plastered onto his face. that one little piece of the message - i've known u for how long? - stuck with him for a moment, but he couldn't spare enough effort to worry about it too much. he chewed the lid of the marker whilst trying to think of something interesting to say in response. i'm going to go ahead and pretend i know what those words mean. he felt like he needed to say more, he didn't want to stop talking.

he decided to finish with: it's been a long time since we talked, huh?

[i was so tired when i wrote this
and it's kinda short omf. but it's
all goin' gooood ^^]

[ruse]

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xxxxxxxxlighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?

xxdriving - it still frightened her but she didn't shake as profusely and she didn't cry as much when she passed the place where it happened and the memories still washed over her like rain and there was a wound that wouldn't stitch shut even with a bit of time (a concept: time, the ultimate killer and healer).

xxswerving; a drunk driver heading towards them, slippery ice. rock music blasting but her heartbeat seemed to breathe louder than the beatles sang out their lungs at the time. they were laughing just minutes prior and now he was trying to steer them into the way that hurt them both the least (or maybe it was just her? he had always put her first and he lived so recklessly). he kept saying 'it will be okay, it will be-' and she still wondered if it was more for himself or her. a scream, a seatbelt holding her back, her hand never reaching his in time, voice breaking as her hands shook and her heart began to shatter dialing 911, an ear against his chest like it was a shell and she was listening for the ocean. it never spoke back (he stopped breathing before help actually came). they had been desperate to know if she was hurt anywhere, but how could you describe mental pain of this degree? the pain of losing your other half? your soulmate? she was crying but she didn't feel any tears, and she ignored the pain that was trying to drag her down, she wanted to know that he was alive, still alive and that he'd laugh it off, right? just like any other injury. but she couldn't, she was a fool in love and he had left her behind. it had been something about a superhero movie at dead midnight she can't remember exactly (she won't remember, she won't). it was a year and a half ago, but it was scarred in her memory like it was just a day ago.

xxher drive had been smooth for the most part (again another refusal of acknowledgement she'd been terrified out of her mind driving past a place that had not yet recovered, like she) and on the way home, she saw a hoard of peonies guarding a house from behind a fence (the first line of defense, or defence). she was still excited (there was a buzz in her skin and a slight step in her step) about the words on her hand that'd begun to spiral down her wrist like a staircase or a tornado or something poetic. the house was empty, and avyn felt the effects of only-child-syndrome kick back at her, though shrugged it off like her backpack, now slumped on the floor next to the entrance. her parents wouldn't be back for a few hours, at the least, and they wouldn't take notice to the lazy backpack on the floor (they might trip, but lightfootedness was a trend in their family, and notably now, lady luck's presence among them).

xxmarching her way back to her room, she returned to crumpled bedsheets (decorated with peonies but she turned them on the inside when he left her, and some nights, it felt like an embrace of flowers). the girl pulled her knees close sitting on the bed, a deep inhale and a sharp exhale taking ahold of her before she examined her arm for an answer. afraid eyes, electrified heart despite. i'm going to go ahead and pretend i know what those words mean, she almost chuckled aloud; she did miss this voice, how it showed even in writing. how he always had seemed more romantic, maybe poetic even, in unspoken word instead of verbal speech. it's been a long time since we talked, huh? these were words that made her want to cry (but she didn't want the words to smear, and it'd show from wherever he was too, and he'd know, and gods, please no), a sense of nostalgia trying to pull at her like the beach's retreating waves to a child.

xxavyn found herself falling back to old habits, pulling out paper and pen and trading marker in, to practice what she wanted to say (for fear she'd only say something along the lines of: i miss you i miss you i miss you i love you, why'd you leave me? i still love you, i still want to-) on a medium that wouldn't appear on his skin along with all her thoughts.

xxten minutes after, her skin bared: too long, actually. i've missed you. and that adorable thing you do, she had to blush at that part, wondering if she were always this saccharine, if her words were always this soaked in love and tenderness and all of the other things she'd never thought she'd learn years ago. how have you been? i am quite positive you know what those words mean, self-proclaimed 'word nerd', avyn concluded. she wanted to say more -of course, obviously- but this was a delicate sort of thing (not talking for a year or so, also a death) that required a equally fine touch and av thought it akin to walking on thin ice. one misstep, and she'll drown (avoid the cracks, weightless dancer, and you'll be fine).



(it's fine!! you don't have to force yourself to squeeze out an answer; i'm fine w waiting tbh and quality over quantity ye? and sorry for the length? i got carried away)

[gently]

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sitting still had never been on toby's list of 'favourite things to do' and waiting for the handwriting, which was becoming so increasingly familiar it was ridiculous, only made it more difficult to ignore the extreme restlessness which was ablaze throughout his entire body. it was crazy if he was being completely honest with himself; was his everyday life before this day so incredibly dull that as soon as something exciting happened it became the center of his universe before anything could be done about it? he paced back and forth in his bedroom for a little while, tried to watch tv for a little while, changed his sitting position on the sofa at least twelve times before finally deciding to just go and sit outside on the grass - there would be more to look at and distract himself with out there if nothing else. marker in hand he sat on the front porch step of his house and watched the cars drive by, keeping count of which color was the most common. he managed to keep his mind focused for a little while by thinking about the people in those cars and how each and every one of them was at the center of their own story. this is ludicrous - i need a hobby he thought nonchalantly.

the boy found himself holding his breath as he noticed words appearing right in front of his eyes. the writing was shaky, but still kind of soft with something like hesitation in it - too long, actually. i've missed you. and that adorable thing you do - which, again, left toby slightly confused; they'd never met after all. but maybe she was just talking about something he'd written, or he was just forgetting something (which wouldn't come as a surprise) and those possibilities left him hesitant to question it. he didn't want to upset her or anything. to his surprise, she kept going - how have you been? i am quite positive you know what those words mean, self-proclaimed 'word nerd'.

he chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, pulling the cap off of the marker pen and placing the tip on the other side of his arm now; having run out of space on the first side. that cute thing i do? you're going to have to be more specific, he wrote and almost immediately regretted it. that was lame, i'm sorry :p he smiled anyway. he had to take another short while to figure out how to respond to that second half of the question. how had he been? he didn't really want to go too far into the recent events which had left a scar down the middle of his chest (a chest which had a beating heart in it, mind you. that was a plus). i've had a lot happening, you know? but there's air in my lungs and i'm talking to you so one could say it's all getting back on track :). and that was all quite true. toby couldn't begin to express how thankful he was to still be alive - he had years and years ahead of him which he intended to spend living as fully as possible.

how're things for you though? he craved to know more about what her life was like. he had a million stupid little things that he wanted to know - what her favourite colour was, whether she preferred coffee or tea, what kind of music she listened to. but he was rapidly running out of exposed skin to write on and it seemed sensible to start small.

[that description of the crash just
broke my heart oml :'c here's a
mediocre one from moi <3]

[ruse]

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xxxxxxxxlighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?

xxshe didn't know quite when, but she'd taken to walking the length of her bedroom, much too anxious to stay still and tremble in one spot (she'd have to slip into something more comfortable later on, these shorts and the tryhard air conditioner were a deplorable combo). at one point, she'd taken a blanket from her closet (a mess, a physical display of the state of her life at the moment) and draped it over her legs and sat herself on the bed, tried to play monument valley on her phone. the visuals, as always, seemed to try to steal her breath away, but it seemed like the oxygen was locked into her lungs this round. there was no time restraint, but it felt like something was weighing on her, so she swiped out of the app with wavering fingers. avyn tossed her phone in favor of the other side of the bed, forcing herself to lay (still; don't wear down the floor, mom and dad aren't looking for a hole in the ceiling after a long day of work, a report of her academics would do just fine). peonies; she saw some on the way home, right? maybe, she'd ask to borrow, or rather take, to his grave later (or maybe steal, a voice that sounded suspiciously familiar murmured in her head). she tried to walk herself through her day again, finding nothing of particular interest besides the blatant handwriting that was starting to run down her arm- maybe, this was a good opportunity to test how ambidextrous she was.

xxthere was a sunset stalking her outside, so she got out of her way to take a quick picture (snapshot 58, sunset series in her phone). a return of words was beginning its descent on her arm, though on the other side. a smile chased its way to her eyes, and avyn could swear she felt her heart trip and miss a step in the heartbeat routine it's perfected countless times over a span of almost eighteen years (june 14th was also running close, but it wouldn't lose its breath and break before reaching her birthday; time doesn't stop for anyone). this time, there was no hesitation laced in her movements- what would she do if she made him wait and he made her wait? nothing, probably just wiggle in her place again but then again, tumblr was always a good option.

xxhaha, the girl rolled her eyes in dramatic flair, knowing he wouldn't be able to see, (but it was a habit she hadn't broken out of and seemed as much as her as her dna), that's right, you have too many cute things about you, i strain to remember which one i was talking about. sarcasm was evident even in her loopy handwriting. but i have to put my bet on that it was the one thing you do, pretending you understand to avoid uncharted territory. lame? oh no, that's fine, being lame was always one of your endearing points as well c; less sarcasm, more sincerity.

xx'air in his lungs' he said, and there she found the hesitation she'd lacked before. she was in no position to question it (remember, ice, dance around the cracks) and she was more than alright to keep up the lighthearted talk and flirt like this guy didn't die and he wasn't here with her, but here he was, writing like he could breathe and he was okay and she was crying, wasn't she? happy tears, the girl told herself, wiping it off with the edge of her blanket. i would expect so, and what a romantic notion; tbh? talking to you has been the highlight of my month so far. year would be a better fit, she considered after writing it.

xxme? a question she wasn't prepared for. i'm - good, as long as you are too. though, i'm thinking about visiting the cemetery later this week, she felt like she had left it on a feeble note, but mention of a place where people slept eternally was probably worse. but what could she do at this point? it's out there and promised in ink already.



(the counting car colors things reminds me of the movie up?? that's so cute omf
i still love toby? yes v much so and i'm sorry i cried a lil when i was writing that scene; also here is a clumsy post from me that probably doesn't make sense and has more use of parentheses than usual but shrug)