Work Text:
Twisted lovers, entangled in each other’s embrace.
Breathe in my cold breath then let me have yours.
Cold hearts match cold minds but a fire is held firm between them. Soft digits press against smooth skin, tender care taken with each touch. So fragile, people would wonder if they were made of glass. The two soft soulmates sit side by side, thighs close and hands held halfway.
The girl, hazel hair with doe eyes, finds beauty in the passing foreground while the other finds beauty in her. The scenery is bleeding, greens turn to gray as time passes by. The sodden sky sets snowflakes adrift as the December air takes its home. The world seems so peaceful today. Daydreams set her mind ablaze as she longs for this day to continue on as rosy and hopeful as her Hobi.
Kiss my lips day or night, full of rushing blood or spilling from the faucet.
The boy, mousy hair and dimples when he smiles, searches the train in nervous ambition. The train speeds fast down the tracks, the dizzying movements cause vertigo to set in. Eyes guided to a steady point, his soul lazily drags his focus to the pinky, pale hands which hold his. Oh Hobi, sweet Hobi, with apple cheeks all red and ripe, heart too sick to carry the heavy burden of morality.
My Darling, sweet solace, I am yours in every universe.
Two kids found spellbound by each other trust too greatly in the judgment of one another. Infatuation clouds judgment and betrayal from an envious slut fuels blinding fits of fury. Hobi’s left helplessness at the sight of his lover sobbing, sickly sorrows on their shared bed. Hands reached out barely an inch before Hobi engulfed them in his strong arms. He willed every god and demon to let the warmth from his bones bleed into his pretty little love. And when she begged for relief with miserable eyes and pleas of “Help me Hobi, show me how much you love me,” well, how could he say no.
I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than the crimson kisses I placed on your cheeks in death's wake.
Love-struck maniacs woke up death on an evening so elegant. It would have been selfish to not share the sight. The train's doors open with such hesitance, doubting if such a young soul should be let out to fight off the cold alone.
How much madness would you face to see me smile from your atrocities?
The couple on train 201, bound by imperfect impurity painted vain vermilion across the train tracks. A picture perfect Jane Doe she was, how unimportant and tainted her existence had become. A sadistic girlfriend and her corrupt boyfriend follow each other's footsteps in the snow. Teetering and playing seesaw over the edge of insanity and obsession. Bloodstained hands grasped together forever while crimson kisses grow darker with each caress.