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Secrets are the wanderers of the heart, and Evan purposefully keeps some of his own trapped. He doesn't mind that his friends know what his body looks like under his clothes- Evan fancies himself to be decidedly attractive, wholly unashamed of how he looks. Conventional ideals of intelligence are not the mold of which he was borne, but he's smart where it counts- survival of the fittest is a phrase that burns bright in his mind. Once Jeff caught Evan out on the roof in the middle of the night, when asked why, Evan only grunted placidly, "they look pretty," and Jeff took that and left, thinking no more of it- not realizing that Evan always watches the pitch black sky when the clouds are far from sight. There are days though, days when Evan can't look at himself in the mirror; days when Evan swears there's something threatening to swallow him whole, cackling behind his eyes. He dislocated his entire left arm- nearly broke it- and had to go to a doctor to fix it once because of the brilliant decision to see if he was stronger than a refrigerator, astonishingly not, when he was fifteen. Secrets like those, yeah a bit embarrassing, but Evan's bullish enough to pass through the storm if they ever saw the light of day. But there is one secret that Evan would be devastated if it got loose, escaped through the iron cage of his cracked ribs like a rabid beast starved of nourishment- HABIT.
The worst of it though would be that Evan would be to blame for exposing the other side of his coin, after all it was he himself who introduced Vinny to the site. It wasn't that exciting, not that interesting to look at with its lackluster appearance but it held it's charms close and proudly, manifesting as a sort of minimalism. Evan liked it because it was simply, easy. He felt like he could express himself in ways he never could before- and as it turns out, with a profile under an alias, he could. Anonymity is the dearest ally of a poet, that's something Evan- HABIT- learned quickly. His words- HABIT's words- were the dragon's fire on Evan's mousy fingertips, they're alluring, exotic and masterfully blasphemous. Somehow, Evan adopted an almost otherworldly persona when he found himself idly dragging his fingers on his keyboard, and, somehow, Evan HABIT was eloquent, well-learnt. HABIT became the brain and Evan remained the brawn, ever observational and diligent.
Pride is something Evan has a lot of, too much most likely, but he doesn't give it any mind. He was proud of this site, proud he understood it and was able to navigate it like a learnt pro. So he showed it to Vinny with a goofiest, lopsided grin on his face. For his part, Vinny showed genuine intrigue in what Evan was exposing him to. Even if Evan did it like an over-excited child would- pointing with a finger that doesn't really gesture to just one thing, talking over himself. Evan assumed a role he never knew existed and Vinny, well, Evan didn't know what Vinny did. At least online. Because Evan saw, he always saw, what Vinny did offline; a smile worn to a masquerade to disguise depression, the toxic scent of sadness that clung to him like a sheer cape- subtle and thin.
HABIT's first post is alliteration, repetition of the first letter. Evan finds it fitting for many reasons.
hearken habits, hollowing homes and halving harmony. hatred hides under happiness, harlequin to the harsh hierarchy of the heathen hive-mind
-//-
Evan never meant for it to sound personal, but he hated how Vinny fiddled with his sleeves as he tries to hide the leftover remnants of last night's affair with something sharper than his wit. Once shining eyes are now drained of their vibrant, comet-like passion, and Evan doesn't think he could handle if that shell of what used to be Vinny continued hurdling towards certain destruction. It takes all of Evan to look at Vinny and not see the scars, the self-imposed blisters scaling soft skin, but he does. However, it is not done willingly, because the pain of succumbing to whatever unseen demons one is plagued by is not a pain unfamiliar to Evan. He himself bears the raw reminders of nights that got too loud.
He, however, has grown from his pain, evolved beyond it, he manifested his dark thoughts, the acidic voices in his head, into something many consider beautiful, admire even. Vinny has not. Vinny wears fresh scars with near arrogance, unaware of how Evan's own skin crawls with a poisonous hunger to be shred every time he sees them. Strength is no good if one does not possess the backbone to maintain it- and Evan's damn near falters each time he spies Vinny's shirtsleeve hitching up. The addiction of momentary release, of instantaneous relief, is not one that Evan could easily forget, his heart thumping heavy in his chest each time he sees the long, red cuts kissing Vinny's shoulder. Call it a rabbit or a habit, the memories branding Evan a past victim, but Evan would give absolutely anything to see them go away.
Once HABIT posts it, Vinny seems to abstain finding the razor late at night, even though Evan hid it with shaking hands. But no new demons are peeking out from under Vinny's shirts and that's enough for Evan to sleep more easily.
acerbic is the life divided between the permeability of mortal flesh and the rapture of deathless soul- finding solace only in the howling night with its blood-stained razor teeth as a bittersweet companion
-//-
They were out shopping, getting groceries, in the morning. The sun's kissing the sky as tender as a lover, rosy blush staining wispy clouds. Filled with delicious foods, their cart sports heads of lettuce and thick cuts of pork chops, heavy sprigs of grapes and two gallons of milk- one regular and one chocolate. Evan pushes the cart leisurely, trailing after Vinny as the latter glides almost magically down the produce-lined walls. Nothing is said, but there is a comfort found in the rickety clack of a wobbly wheel as Evan shadows Vinny, watching the way Vinny examines labels- checking prices, comparing ingredients. Watching how when Vinny reaches up to the top shelf, his shirtsleeves bunch up and Evan can see the scabs that have now found home there.
Vinny laughs as they scurry through the dairy aisle, Evan carefully butting the front of the cart against his companion's legs. There's a sense of weightlessness spawning between them, like the gravity of the earth doesn't apply when tribulations are forsaken for a short while. The bristles of Vinny's whiskered facial hair curl into a pleasant, wistful smile. It's a moment that feels nature, feels right- like the albatross previously choking Vinny has disappeared. It feels like there's a place for everything and Evan's place is with Vinny, like Vinny's is besides Evan. "Hey, watch it, you're gonna run me over one of these times," huffs Vinny, blatantly fake agitation coating his words. Almost as if a challenge, Evan smirks while staring directly at Vinny as he does it once more, playfully pressing the cart to the back of Vinny's legs.
Passing through the hygiene aisle, Evan says nothing when Vinny silently places a package of razors into the cart before quickly commenting that they should probably get some shampoo- they're nearly out. Evan gives a small smile and grunts in agreement. He eyes the pack with disdain when Vinny turns his back to Evan, looking over the options they have for hair care, but makes no attempt remove the malicious object. There is a desire to harbor no ill thoughts towards Vinny, but Evan is far too aware of the ease of slipping back into destructive compulsions. Malignant, they fester, dormant, under the skin and Evan wishes they would just leave Vinny alone, he's bled for their malefic cause too much already. Evan hates that he leaves them in the cart, but he's weak against the demons as well and he knows that if they wish to be free, getting rid of the razors will not hinder their jailbreak.
They meander their way to checkout, hips swaying and gently brushing against one another. Loading their items onto the lane, Evan desperately attempts to ignore the electricity that warms his skin as Vinny's fingers, velvet soft, bump against his own. It's marvelously kind juxtaposed to the violence rampaging just below the skin- Evan feels that familiar sorrow rattling porcelain bones. He gives a gentle smile and Vinny returns it, small and timid, with idle eyes that only meet Evan's own for a fleeting moment. Maybe it's a play of light, but Evan swears there's tears glistening in Vinny's eyes when Evan gives his wrist a tender squeeze, grounding Vinny to him, tethering Vinny to humanity.
HABIT posts soon after Evan and Vinny return home and restock the refrigerator. A few hours later, Evan finds an unopened pack of razors buried in the kitchen garbage, despite a clear attempt to be tactfully masked by other trash.
forgive yourself please // for cathartic relief found // in repetition
-//-
"Hey, Ev," Vinny pipes up, a breathtaking airiness to his voice as it delves into the near silence of the basement, otherwise filled with only the beastly grunts of the video game that Evan's focused on. Without taking his eyes from the screen, Evan gives a throaty hum to signify that he's listening. Vinny's fingers a locked around his phone, thumb just shy of tenderly caressing the lit up screen. "Remember when you showed me that writing site a week or so back?"
Furrowing his brow, Evan blinks in recognition, as if trying to recall it. Pausing his game, it's a gateway to another- a different game, one where he has to passably lie to one of his best friends and the stakes were potentially much greater than just losing some virtual experience. Evan peers at Vinny, faux confusion painted across his face, trying to pretend that it isn't something he thinks about regularly. "Yeah," Evan's voice is casual, to a point where it feels almost forced. "I remember, what about it?" Vinny shrugs, suddenly feeling uncertain about talking about the topic. Smiling, Evan gently nudges Vinny in the side with his elbow, chuckling, "Nah, man, what about it?"
Vinny bites his lip, gentle eyes fogging over as if lost in reverie. "Well," his voice is soft, and he breaks away from looking at his phone to look at Evan, "There's this... this... this poet? I don't know what to call them, but poet sounds about right. Anyway, they call themselves HABIT, all caps. And they write this stuff, and it's... it's amazing."
Rapture ignites in Vinny's dark eyes, galaxies exploding with limitless life, as he rambles on. Evan smiles placidly, nodding with an intentionally vacant stare, finding it exceedingly difficult to ignore the near joy burning within Vinny. "This... HABIT, do you actually like them? Well, not them, but, like, what they write or whatever?" He won't lie, Evan doesn't think he could deal with having to parry for Vinny's affections, be it with some alter ego of his own or someone entirely different.
"I... I don't know," the confession seems begrudgingly admitted, like Vinny wasn't truly ready to talk about it, like he needed time to think about it himself. "They write these things and it always sounds so pretty. It sounds like it was meant for me, you know?" A look of content encapsulates Vinny as he allows himself to be swallowed by the couch. "Feels like HABIT knows me, like personally. They seem to know just what I need to hear."
"Maybe you've got an admirer," coolly offers Evan, trying to mask his flush as he chastises himself for saying something so rash. Vinny doesn't look at Evan, instead gazing with doe-like wonder at his phone. For a moment, Evan forgets about the air of sadness that threatens to suffocate Vinny at all times- distracted by the angelic glow that halos him. Deification of a human is not inspired by Herculean feats, but instead a transformation etched on the back of eyelids with a utensil dipped in bliss. Softness envelops Vinny like a protective layer, warding off anything harmful, toxic. For once, Vinny looks undeniably, unabashedly happy.
The site congratulates HABIT for his twentieth post and Evan congratulates himself for being such a crutch for Vinny, even if through some other means not entirely himself.
the vine is aided, not hindered, by the wall
-//-
It was never meant to be seen by Evan, that much he was sure of. The fresh marks of a demon clawing out of Vinny's thighs. Vinny was coming out of the shower and Evan peeked over, his stomach attached to an anchor as it sunk to an unfathomable depth. He felt distraught, helpless. He felt creepy, disgusting. He felt ashamed for looking at his friend and seeing those cuts adorning Vinny's skin but saying nothing. Evan watched in silence as Vinny, wrapped up in a towel, flees to the sanctuary of his room, leaving Evan alone with his worry.
"Vin," Evan's voice quivers slightly as he hears his friend reemerge from his room, dry and clothed. A soft trill escapes Vinny's throat as he settles down besides Evan. He smells like deodorant and fruit- Vinny always like the citrus-scented body washes. But more importantly, he smells like Vinny and that makes Evan's head spin happily. Swallowing thickly, Evan tries again, hoping that his voice isn't as shaky as it sounds, "Vinny, what are we?"
There's something cold, unreadable, swimming in the seabed of Vinny's undefinable eyes as he grits out quietly, "What do you mean, Evan?"
"Between us, it's different," Evan whispers like he's revealing a secret, something otherwise unknown. But it's so clear, so obvious, that it almost hurts. "We're so much closer to each other than to Jeff, to anyone. I guess, I just... I just don't know where that puts us. Sorry for bringing it up, I know it was stupid. Forget I even said anything."
For a few moments Evan's request is honored and Vinny doesn't say anything, but soon he speaks up with a quiver to his voice. "Why'd you bring it up, Ev?" He's clearly uncomfortable with the topic and Evan is too, because he intend for it to sound this way- like he's desperate, vying. Because, in all actuality, it isn't about the state of their relationship together, about how close they are. It's about being open, which is such an ironic thing for Evan to want because he's a bundle of secrecy himself. "We're just closer, man, we've been through some shit together." It's a pathetic attempt at giving a reason and Vinny knows it because he turns away, biting his lip.
"I guess I just thought that you'd be able to tell me anything, everything," murmurs Evan, not bothering to turn and look his friend. Evan doesn't intend to sound bitter but he does, he knows he does. He's all too aware of the sting of his words and how they're like a whole new blade, red-hot and honed, on Vinny's already carved flesh. It would do little good to take back what he's said, Evan knows this too, because he's dropped anchor in this typhoon. So he braces himself for the silence of shrieking winds and the rain from heaven- his heaven, Vinny.
"I do tell you everything, Evan?" There's a growing tremble, like the roar of an approaching storm, in Vinny's words. Like gale force winds are battering his lungs, menacing the screaming joints of Vinny's body, bending Vinny until he splinters, succumbing to submission. Like Vinny's not apt to admit it to himself, to let the world in on an already well-known secret. Like he wants to try and continue lying to himself, that he can handle it on his own. And maybe he can, but Evan will no longer stand by and watch someone he cares about tear themselves apart- exposing tender flesh like a candle, a wick just anticipating self-immolation. "What are you talking about?"
"You tell me everything, Vinny? Really?" Evan grits out with a snarky laugh, knuckles bleeding white as he smacks his fist against the end of the couch. He hates that he's mad but he hates it more that Vinny flinches, whimpering and jerking away from Evan. Fear is not a tactic Evan enjoys delving into, and he doesn't like seeing the whites of Vinny's eyes so he takes a breath, calming himself down. Unclenching his hand, Evan hoarsely offers, "You don't tell me everything, Vin. I know you don't."
"You have no reason to know my search history," Vinny comments coldly.
Blinking in mild confusion, Evan can't help the breathy chuckle that rolls off his tongue because even faced with an uncomfortable situation, Vinny still knows how to make a joke. Shaking his head, a quiet sibilation clicks on Evan's teeth, "Not your porn preferences, dumbass. I'm talking about what you've got under your shirt. I see the cuts, how you hurt yourself. And don't say that you were going to, because you weren't, not if you could help it. I know because I was the same way. Why did you nev-"
Evan cuts himself short at the sound of Vinny sniffling, tears beginning to stain his face. Immediately regret spills over Evan, watching Vinny shake like a leaf. The sounds Vinny's making are gross- the offspring of a snotty cry and a silent, asphyxiating scream. Strong arms wrap around Vinny and pull him close, Evan cradling Vinny's head to his chest- coddling him, protecting him. Tears dampen Evan's shirt as he soothingly runs his fingers through Vinny's hair, soft cooing noises threatening to trip on his teeth. Vinny's fingers knot in the loose fabric as he hugs tighter to Evan, pitifully croaking and Evan just wants to stay like this- close to Vinny, safeguarding his dear companion like a loyal dog, willing to bear his teeth to any adversary. The demons, they creep and creep just under the surface, just out of sight, but no longer will Evan loiter and watch the intricate deconstruction of a person being torn from the hinges of their psychological well-being.
Evan broke down the final barrier he had built between Vinny and himself, the one he installed because he didn't want to interfere with Vinny. But he realized he couldn't stand idle any longer and HABIT realized this too. Confessions seem star-crossed when coerced by unfortunate bodies riddled with monsters larger than itself.
they say ignorance is bliss; but I haven't ignored anything and this is certainly not bliss
-//-
Evan blames himself really. He forgot about the trip- going to visit his sister and parents out of town for the weekend- and he just left without telling Vinny. Sure, Evan had a great time; good food, good people, what's not to like? But what he came back home to left a bitter taste in his mouth. Jeff had come over and both he and Vinny had inebriated themselves into a downright drunken stupor in Evan's absence. No, they weren't partaking in any dangerous activities, but it wasn't healthy. Not the way Jeff held his bottle his trembling fingers as it readily slips from his grip, nor the way Vinny looks like he hasn't slept since Evan left. The bags under Vinny's eyes are telling of how he's been dealing with Evan's short vacation- and subsequently HABIT's- but it's a serrated knife to the gut to see tender flesh abraded by the stinging bite of silver, thin lines of red offset to Vinny's paleness.
It wasn't difficult to wrestle the long-necked flask from Vinny, a baby would have put up a better challenge to keep it's bottle.
Herding Vinny to his room while ignoring the gurgles of opposition from both drunken men, Evan grunts as Vinny limply allows his body to be manipulated by him. They clunk up the stairs, Vinny falling twice in a fit of giggles hiccuped out between soft whimpers. Vinny groans pathetically when Evan hoists him into bed. Evan is quick to pull the covers over Vinny, not that he doesn't want to see him- he would love nothing more than an opportunity to appreciate the miracle of Vinny's warm body- but because Evan doesn't think he could handle what he would find. Ruins where something cherished, revered, should stand; the dilapidated remains of a body that most certainly doesn't deserve the abuse it is made to endure.
Evan perches on the edge of the bed, smoothing the covers out over Vinny, making sure it's comfortable and that he won't have an issue turning if he feels a need to throw up. Resting his hand upon Vinny's burning cheek, Evan sheepishly smiles and the distorted rumble of a purr that Vinny makes. "It's..." Evan trails off as Vinny rubs his cheek into the palm caressing him. Clearing his throat, Evan tries again but he sees the tears brimming in Vinny's eyes, and he stumbles again, before finishing his thought, "It's... It's going to be okay, Vinny. I swear it."
A genuine desire for that to be true overwhelms Evan as he looks down at Vinny like this- ineffably vulnerable and desperate to be rescued. His dark locks frame his head, cushioned by the pillow under him. Gently, Evan pets Vinny's face with his thumb, stroking overly hot skin with a near forbidden tenderness. Vinny seems to like it, squeezing his eyes tight and nuzzling more into Evan's touch as if looking for forgiveness. Forgiveness that Vinny should never think he needs, he's done no wrong. Vinny is not at fault and Evan knows it, they both know it.
"You've got a strong heart, Vin, don't let it go this easily." Evan stands up with a soft, ardent smile and leaves the room to take care of Jeff, still downing beer in the basement. Just before he closes the door behind him, Vinny makes a quiet, indecipherable babble but it sends Evan's own heart fluttering.
Apologies always feel harrowing to Evan, but HABIT makes them damn near saccharine. Vinny awakens to find gauze and disinfectant on his nightstand. Evan, having made sure Jeff got home safely, didn't go to sleep until much later but when he awoke himself, it made him happy to see the off-white of the gauze hugging Vinny's shoulder just beneath his shirtsleeve.
fallible is humanity- right down to it's nubile core- but let us forget not of the comfort found in waiting arms
-//-
Evan doesn't know what to say, how to respond, when he hears Vinny say it. But, fuck, if it doesn't send Evan's heart spiraling with glee towards ascension. It felt like a epiphany, the constellation everything he's ever wanted and beyond that even. Vinny stands before him, baring himself to Evan with a transparency that Evan has never experienced from him before. A heart on his sleeve and scars on his skin, Vinny is the masterpiece Evan envies to no end- a creation that defines one of the very pillars of Evan's life.
"I think... I think I love you, Evan."
But apparently silence was not the answer Vinny was looking for in his unstated question, because when he finds only the low hum of the fridge, Vinny's cheeks puff up. Tears begin to well in his eyes, sparkling in the dull lighting of the kitchen, and it shatters Evan into so many more pieces than he ever thought possible. Some small part of Evan wants to believe it's just glitter, simply happiness that shines in Vinny's eyes, but he knows that it's not; Evan knows that he's making the wrong moves and his turn has passed and he'll have to deal with the consequences of his inaction.
Vinny spits at Evan, some sadness-infused rage like blue flames on his lips, "I open myself to you and you give me nothing? You fucking asshole. You're standing there like this is nothing, like we didn't kiss on New Years even if we were drunk. You're being completely fucking silent, as if my feelings mean absolutely fuck all to you. Evan, I thought that maybe you'd feel the same, that maybe you'd want me back but apparently I'm not even worth a goddamn word to you. You haven't even said a damn thing. Fuck you," Vinny sputters out, his engine running low on fuel as his words become choppy, slurred as he finally allows tears to wet his face, choking out a final, shuddery whimper before stealing away to his room, "Fuck you, Evan."
Dumbfounded, Evan is unable to move after Vinny, flinching at the harsh thud of a door slamming shut. He yearns to chase after Vinny, to quell the rolling thunder of fears clapping viciously in Vinny's ears- but he can't, rendering immobile by his own. Evan's lungs quiver, siphoning the very oxygen from his lungs, and he yearns to do nothing more than to march to Vinny and quell every fear he's ever had right now, to stomp out the flames breathed out by his demons right now. Evan wants to do anything everything he can to prove to Vinny that he's not alone in this endeavor but he can't, feet like lead bolted to the ground and his hands- they won't stop shaking.
Weakness is not the embodiment of what you fear, that much Evan knows, it's the culmination of everything you love. And seeing Vinny storming off in a fit of tears, that cut deeper than Evan ever did, than he hopes Vinny ever did. He doesn't know how to rectify this, how to rebuild the pinnacle of Vinny because Evan knows that this, this particular moment, is undeniably his fault and he must fix it. Fix Vinny. Take the broken pieces in tender hands and glue them back together, cosset them. Evan needs to make Vinny's body feel like home because, to Evan, it already is. Vinny is the one thing that Evan always took solace in and there's not a thing that would make Evan feel better than to be that- that place of comfort, support- for Vinny.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, hoping that Vinny would go look at HABIT's posts for something, anything, to guide him through this perceivable catastrophe. Maybe it was fate, something larger than either of them, that HABIT seemingly knew how to say the words Vinny wanted to hear while giving him a clear view of just who's hands are typing.
you said that you think, and you have every entitlement to that thought. but one look at you, one look and I knew- oh god did I know- that I love you
-//-
You have one new comment on your post "To Vinny" from user Vincent_Van_Gone!
you. all this time, it was you.