secondhand heartbreak

vi. character study (pt. 2)

he is caged. he grasps the bars desperately, as if he wishes to be free. deep down he knows he'd never choose to escape, even if the opportunity presented itself, even if the door was unlocked and wide open.

(before you ask, no, she is not the key.)

he carries around a prison with him everywhere he goes, not around his heart but over his whole self, his whole life. he is locked up, and the fact that it is completely his own doing makes him even guiltier.

(his hands are painted red with the blood of his own happiness.)

he keeps his distance, is more wary of people than necessary. he has no family to speak of that he can effectively cut off. at least that part is taken care of.

(it's not so much ironic as it is sad, because his family is part of the reason he's like this...)

(but that is a story for another time.)

the fact that he has any friends at all is remarkable—an anomaly, a lapse in his judgement. regardless of whether or not the one friend he does have is voluntary. he didn't want to have a roommate, but that doesn't mean they can't be friends.

the distance he maintains from real people is for the best, really.

but then she appears in the kitchen of somebody's house party, downing her weight in cheap beer and staring down anyone that gets too close. he knows what she'll end up doing to him, knows that regret and guilt will beat him down further when all is said and done.

he doesn't care.

she is perhaps the only person who doesn't look at him like he's something to be pitied, like he's more sorrow and self-hatred than actual man.

(he is—she doesn't bring attention to it.)

he doesn't deserve that small act of mercy. he doesn't deserve her, he can already tell.

that's what makes her so damn dangerous.