Work Text:
Comes with an Aesthetic.
Why do all the monsters come out at night?
Why do we sleep when we want to hide?
Why do I run back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?
The rain falling outside the truck is heavy. It's drumming onto the roof and forming puddles on the uneven ground of the old factory site that is his home for the night.
A shiver runs through his body as the wind picks up; the thin blanket doesn't really make up for the fact that he drove here in just a hoodie and a thin shirt. Shortly he contemplates to seek refugee in the warm fur of his wolf but the hassle of a quick shift when someone finds him here will be too much. And so he simple curls into a ball, clam hands brought to his mouth in the hopes that his breath will warm them up again.
Another day, 'nother headache in this hangover hotel
Gettin' used to the rhythm, yeah, I know this beat too well
Tunnel visions got me feeling, like you're the only one I see
But I know what's missing, where I'm swimmin'
In my lonely luxury
His eyes are closed but sleep won't come.
He is too used to another heartbeat next to his, the familiar rhythm that is missing prevents his body from relaxing.
Instead he thinks about the path that led him here, to this night. All the twists and turns in his life, his mistakes and lucky finds.
Lately there have been a lot of the latter, how he has to admit. A slow smile playing on his lips.
Luck is something he always thought to be a myth. You do things and you accept the consequences. Everything happens for a reason. No room for fortune or fortuities.
That is until he met his guardian angel. Blue eyes smiling down on him, bringing the warm golden glow of fortune with them. A hand reaching out for him to take.
But a guardian angel is only watching over you. And so he is still lonely.
Fortunate, but lonely.
I'm wondering why do all the monsters come out at night?
Why do we sleep when we want to hide?
Why do I run back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?
Why am I a sucker for all your lies?
Strung out like laundry on every line
Why do I come back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?
He desperately wishes for sleep to come, for his nightmares to hide him from his thoughts.
His phone vibrates. It's the blue eyed angel, calling, worrying, demanding.
Where are you?
Is everything okay?
Come back home.
Come back to me.
He says he cares. That he only wants to help. But he knows that no one does anything without second thoughts, without thinking about themselves. Not even angels.
It's true. His life had been fucked up before.
But it has been simple. Sleep, find something to eat, earn money, repeat. Surviving. When his angel found him it got complicated.
Sometimes he wants to go back to the simplicity. No turning back.
I'm addicted to the way you hurt, the way you contradict me
I swear everything look worse at night, I think I'm overthinking
I don't care who I might hurt along the way, I'm fuckin' sinking
Into every word, I don't care if you lyin' when I'm drinking
So, tell me pretty lies, look me in my face
Tell me that you love me, even if it's fake
You can lead me on and leave these questions in my sheets
I'm under it, I made my bed and I'm still wonderin'
Once he accepted to come with him, to live with him, the thoughts came.
Why am I still here? Why do you keep me around? What do you want?
I don't want anything, the angel says. And then: you are my responsibility and I love you.
I want you to be happy.
And for a while, he believed the pretty lies coming out of his angel’s mouth. He smiled, he nodded, he did what he felt right.
They kiss and he is finally warm.
I'm wondering why do all the monsters come out at night?
Why do we sleep when we want to hide?
Why do I run back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?
Why am I a sucker for all your lies?
Strung out like laundry on every line
Why do I come back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?
But when his angel is gone, the words loose their power. The pretty lies are just lies now, without the golden glow of the angel’s smile.
When his angel leaves, he takes all his warmth with him.
He feels like an addict, always craving more whispered promises and fleeting kisses.
Lost without his light, sitting in the dark; another voice gets heard.
Thinkin' about you, you're in my head
Even without you, I still feel dead
Why do I run back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?
Dead, thinking about you, you're in my head
Even without you, I still feel dead
Why do I run back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?
The voice is inside his own head.
What were you thinking?
He doesn't love you. No one does.
You're better off alone. Trust only yourself.
Lies.
Ugly, cold lies.
Who to believe?
And he wonders. Maybe that's the problem, the irony of this. That the biggest monster is inside his own head. And it only comes out at night.
A knock on the window. Sharp.
I'm wondering why do all the monsters come out at night?
Why do we sleep when we want to hide? (Hide)
Why do I run back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?
Why am I a sucker for all your lies?
Strung out like laundry on every line
Why do I come back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life? (Fuck up my life)
“Theo? What are you doing here? Please come home.”
He starts the engine.
Like I don't mind if you fuck up my life