Work Text:
little thing who was loved so well, why are you crashing under the weight of expectatives?
pretty little thing, aren’t you smart? why are you breaking a sweat?
little porchay, why are you feeling pressured? you just have to keep being good.
he’s choking, he’s gasping for air since the moment he left. why can’t you breathe even if the room is filled with air? why do you keep trying to breathe underwater, in a foreign place where you clearly don’t belong? he knew it, since the first moment he knew he was flying too close to the sun, but the difference is that he went down under the fire of guns.
sweet and little porchay, why do you clutch your hands over your chest? you can not control your heart rate. breathe, just breathe, little kid. put your thoughts to rest, stop listening to that poisonous mind.
gulp your coffee, pass the sorrows down your throat. is it hot, chay? does it burn more than your juvenile heart? does your heart keep raising? it is better when you don’t know why, i’d rather for it to be because of the caffeine than because the crippling fear that numb your hands yet urges your legs to run.
are your hands bleeding, young lover? was it the quill who hurt you or the one who made you grab it? a table full of ink and blood is your only company.
do you feel better after drinking so much? were you able to forget the past? you got lost in a sea of bodies, borrowing their warmth yet you are still freezing cold.
is your heart bleeding to death, young lover? you drank until you forgot, until the tremble of your hands could be blamed on the substance.
in a way it is true, you’re high, but you’re high in love, you are high sitting in a throne but that throne is placed over your heart’s broken pieces.