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“…and renewal is, as established, a lie! so, in retaliation…”
you only watches him fondly, whatever nonsense he’s rambling about falls on deaf ears. your interest lies somewhere closer to edward’s body, hidden in the folds and creases of his heaving parka. wandering eyes fall to the symbol on his jacket, a small smile fitting onto your features as you reminisced.
(edward hunched in a heap on the hardwood floor; thighs and cheeks covered in splatters of white paint, hands a little shaky and body wracked with giddy glee — all of this was an afterthought, though. in the centre of it all, in the centre of your vision, a proud toothy grin lit up your boyfriend’s face; and a white question mark lay at his thighs.)
edward, ever the observant and insecure, noticed your displaced attention. hands waved frantically before your face, and you only blinked up at edward, humming an inquisitive little sound.
“you aren’t listening!”
edward was pouting, how childish, and you smiled all the same. amused, as though you’d just been told the president was shot.
“i am,” you said, like a liar.
edward’s pout deepened into a frown and drew his eyebrows tightly together; no longer performative in his childlike expressions.
“oh yeah? what did i just say?”
“you aren’t listening!” was quoted back at him; curious, probing taunts — gentle mockery. you were on the receiving end of a death glare. “renewal is a lie,” you stated plainly.
you beckoned him over with a curt command of c’mere and a motion of your hand; within seconds edward is dropping onto the sofa unceremoniously, facing you. at this, a small swell of pride arises in your chest. you can see as edward’s fleeting anger dissipates and his shoulders relax; frustration bleeds out of his body language into comfort.
the dilution of grief.
“keep talking,” you soften your voice, sincerity sitting pretty on your tongue, “i’m sorry for not listening to you.”
both of your hands find edward’s, holding them pacifically in your lap. (not unlike the time you returned home and held those same hands, wet with blood, on the very same hardwood floor. reassurance is tenderness. reassurance is kissing your lover’s forehead and telling him ‘it’s alright’. it is holding his hand and telling him you’ll help him hide the body.)
he is tender, unlike warfare, yet he is warm like fresh blood.
— futility, wilfred owen
how misleading your actions are; but you will not allow edward to lament his anger any longer and instead cloud his guilty conscious and lost mind with his man-made rapture. edward’s hands twitch in your hold and his lips twitch before opening — vigour renewed.
(renewal, the wretched thing, the lie.)