✉ ¹ , ... @thyvein / “ DON'T MOVE. ”

side-eyeing her, you decide it's opposite day. so you move. just a little bit. “ — whass'matter? i got something in my hair? ” a hand shoots up anticipating to pull something from it while looking at her cheekily. then a palm pats at your cheek as you add, “ huh. maybe 's on my face. ” not your fault messing with her is fun. and that you like the annoyed look she makes. sometimes she fusses too, which is just icing on the cake. sorry not sorry.

❛ what aren’t you telling me? ❜

⠀" i dunno what you're talking about, " is his oblique forewarning that tells joe he knows exactly what he's talking about and to drop it. because the answer is so fucking loaded and he doesn't even wanna scratch the surface. he's barely keeping his head above the clusterfuck of feelings pulling him under, anyway. giving a tug on that thread threatens to unravel him completely — damn it all if he's letting that happen. not to mention what he's not even telling himself; that's another can of worms he refuses to bust open.

⠀and if joe decides to prod, he'll be pricked on the thorns of lee's annoyance. i could ask you the same thing. why does it matter ? i don't have to tell you shit . an arsenal queued to shoot down any further questioning. should be enough to get him to lay off. diverting into another argument would be the real winner. redirect joe's focus away from the unsaid to why lee is so difficult with what he does say. he can work with that conundrum.

⠀sinking further into the passenger seat, he outstretches his legs while turning toward the window. hands folded in his lap begin to idle their fingers. joe's gonna keep looking at him. and he's gonna act like he doesn't care. same old song and dance they've been doing for months now and he's content with keeping it that way. at least that's what he does tell himself.

✉ ¹ , … @thegcng / “ DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THE FUTURE? ”

yeah, maybe when you were a kid. even then, you knew it wasn't a thought to get stuck on; even before learning you were a chip off the fucked up, tearing into people with your teeth old block. 'cause what ten year old wouldn't look at their dad and wonder if that's what you're gonna be like down the line? pissing on walls, tripping over beer bottles — cussing out your wife and kids. smacking them around every now and again. too little to even worry about what you're gonna do needing to eat people. (wide-eyeing you out of the gap of duct tape; reflecting the question: is this what's waiting for me? needing to drink away the guilt of what you've done? — do? the aftermath, when his taste rotting your mouth, is when you decided to not feel bad about what you are. or for delivering karmic justice.) your future was fucked from the start. lingering on it just made shit a lot worse.

and living the way you dims it, anyway. never know what could happen. so, “ nah. not really. ” answered quickly, but not defensively. more like it is what it is. “ i'm kind of a live in the moment kinda guy. y'know? ” that should tell him all he needs to know. and that this isn't something you like to talk about. he can have fun guessing why. you watch the ice clink against the cup when stirring the drink in front of you.

✉ ¹ , ... @johnnysslaughter / “ AREN'T WE IN A GOOD MOOD TODAY? ”

you drill him with a look. 'cause yeah — you are. nice of him to notice. a pull from your cigarette flits smoke from gritting teeth with an ashen fuck you flicked his way. that's all he's gonna get. the day johnny works your nerves is the day pigs fly. he can try to get under your skin 'til he's blue in the face, you couldn't care less. guess you're immune to the smug bullshit he tries to pull. (christ, you can just imagine his inflated ego from seeing that as a challenge). now you're squinting while studying him, waiting out a reaction to your silence.

✉ ¹ , … @coastercrushed / “ DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN TO ME? ”

maybe you do. maybe you don't. either way, you don't wanna think about it. that question is way too fucking loaded and you wish he hadn't of asked it. like, how the hell do you even answer? christ. why did he have to break away from his usual script of saying something stupid? now he's stuck you between a rock and a hard place (giving him a real answer or making him regret asking — but being honest might do that, anyway). you're not used to meaning anything to anyone. and that's on purpose. teeth dig into the inside of your cheek, fingers pull through your hair. foot starts tapping against the ground. neck rolls to the right and then the left, before settling look up at the stars.

“ i dunno. do i? ” because you know what he means to you, and you figure it's around the same. and then you sigh with a shake of your head. “ i mean... i can take a guess. — prob'bly more than i should, huh? ” and you shouldn't at all. this is what you get for letting whatever's happening go too far. but dammit, mapplethorpe's got a hold on you. and you hate it.

✉ ¹ , ... @catchfire / “ WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT? ”

this is something to laugh at happening to other people — not you. you're internally cursing at the world right now. shaking your fist and everything. giving it both fingers. you don't even wanna think how bad it got (you better had not been making faces. or sounds. jesus christ.) keep your cool, shake it off. pretend like your face isn't on fire when you look to the side, away from joe and how he's pretty much pressed onto you. stupid fucking motel bed. “ — nothing, ” he's gonna see right through your bullshit, so you cough to help your case. “ i, uh... i ain't feelin' too good. yeah. ” palm presses to your forehead like checking for a fever. that's what you're thinking about. yep. and not...

the lump in your throat goes down like dry-swallowing a pill. a heavy blink. and another. third time's a charm, then you're sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. bracing yourself on the mattress before slowly standing up while adding, “ think i got a fever or something. got the chills — and my body's achin'. ” there. trap's all laid out. joe's just gotta bite. to top it off, you rub at a rolling shoulder like it's bothering you.

✉ ¹ , ... @catchfire / “ I WON'T HATE YOU. I KNOW YOU THINK IT'S WHAT YOU DESERVE, BUT IT'S NOT. ”

you want to scream. to laugh. to cry. to tell him off for not following the plan. step one: fess up to him — about everything ; what you are, why you do it, and why you ran away. step two: he freaks the fuck out. looks at you different. maybe cusses you out, leading into step three: he hates you and you're free to go. unshackled from whatever the fuck both of you got going on so you can get past it. and he can go marry sara in his la-la land, shunning you to a memory. easy. well, easy as you can make it. but no, he's gotta hit you with this fucking curveball because nothing is ever simple with him. the joe fucking macmillan special — think it's gonna go one way but it whiplashes in the other. and now here you are: at a loss for words in the driver's seat of the truck with the keys idling in the ignition. ready to get the fuck gone and forget about all this shit (like you ever could). what the hell do you do now? kick him out? you're feeling something, but you dunno what. guess confusion ... with a side of numbness and anger sprinkled on the top. hard to put your finger on uncharted territory. fuck him for doing this shit to you. asshole.

“ — jesus christ, ” breaks your silence, headshaking. fingers close, open, close again around the steering wheel. you're not looking at him — you can't. but he's looking at you. his eyes are burning the side of your head. the inside of your cheek is being chewed raw. “ — but... but it is, though. ” and now you're sitting back, hands fidgeting at your chest. you don't think you deserve it — you know you do. not even a matter of guilt, it's just a fact. you do what you gotta do to survive and you're long past feeling bad about it. but it's just as natural for someone like joe to hate you for it. that's just how it works. there's a frustrated sigh now as you push a hand through your hair. “ why you gotta make this hard, huh? ”

✉ ¹ , … @thyvein / “ DON'T WE DESERVE TO BE HAPPY? ”

you study her with a mild disinterest. 'cause the answer is a whopping hell fucking no, but that's gonna dredge up a talk you don't wanna have. you look at it this way: nobody deserves anything. good or bad, you gotta work for shit instead of being entitled to it. happiness included. mean, yeah sure, you can have happy moments here and there — like teaching kayla and maren how to drive, or going to an amusement park — but in general? nah. 'course sometimes you wish you could be truly happy but like a lot of other things, it's not in your deck of cards. you'd argue that you deserve to be unhappy, given all the shit you've done. the killing, screwing over kayla and mom, and god knows what else. just a fact you have to bite down and bear. and another thing on your laundry list of pointless things to think about. or talk about.

“ i dunno. ” propped up on your elbow, wondering what sparked the question in the first place. and then you parry the ball into her field with: “ ... why even ask that? like, it's kind of a stupid question. no offense. ” then rolling onto your back, hands behind your head and a leg draped off the bed. “ — you already know the answer. right? it's like asking if water is wet. ”

✉ ¹ , ... @dracabre / “ YOU'RE NOT A VERY CONVINCING LIAR. ”

oh, that's fucking hilarious. yeah. tell that to your whole life spent spouting bullshit; about what you are, where you've been — get the idea. this is a new one. maybe you should take it in stride as a testament to how good of a liar you are. rolling off your tongue so easily that you stand accused of being a sham. you could defend yourself, but what's the point? you'd be wasting your breath. and you don't owe an excuse, anyway. not your problem. “ whatever you say, ” comes with a shrug, because yes. you are.

✉ ¹ , ... @molkovich / “ TRY ME. ”

yeah, you'd rather not. saying the wrong thing to this guy means a fist to the face. or a broken bone. probably both. so to spare yourself that, your brow arches with a placating, “ nah. think i'll pass. ” hands sink into pockets to prove you mean it, leaving no room for being misconstrued. mouth presses into a blasé line as you think, damn. he looks like if the word 'fight' was a person.

✉ ¹ , ... @thyvein / “ WAKE UP. ”

being a light sleeper means that's all it takes for her to get your attention. you're fast on the draw at any sounds; but that also means you get a hard time getting shut-eye, so sue him for being kinda pissy when graveling, “ ... — what, maren? what? ” throwing a scowl over your shoulder at her with one eye cracked open. sun's not even up yet. maybe she heard something you didn't. or saw. you dunno if she fell asleep, too. just to be safe, you palm around the plywood for your switchblade. the truck is parked well into the trees, but outside is never a hundred percent safe. never know what — or worse — who could be trying to get the jump on you. and like hell you're gonna let her get hurt. (shit, where did it go? was by your head earlier, where you always put it before going to bed.) an annoyed tut.

❛ well, how do i look? ❜

pictured : the first ( until now ) time lee saw joe in a suit — porsche pulling up to his hooked thumb jutting from the highway . leaning into the rolled down window to watch his reflection in those sunglasses while accepting a ride . unknowingly becoming a fixture in the passenger seat . first impression ? another corporate jerk who uses money to wipe his ass with .

" — like an asshole , " he fondly recalls from the memory . grin hidden behind his palm as he watches joe's reflection ( like the rearview mirror ) while sprawled out on the bed . time fucking flies . from shitty motels to an apartment with a city view ; from only talking about this day to him now getting dressed for it . lee really didn't think he'd be here , or even care to , see it . with a sigh , he rolls onto his back and adds , " naw , but forreal . you're lookin' sharp . might get fired on your first day for givin' everyone whiplash . "

❛ is that blood? is it yours? ❜

sparked panic is placed into an incredulous " — what ? " masquerading as what are you talking about ? when his mind's swarming with swore i got it all ! joe is shot a calculated look of confusion as he checks himself over , knowing full well where he might've missed . it usually the same spot . he curses beneath breaths while speeding toward the bathroom mirror , shaking his head when meeting his reflection . yep . a red streak tucked beneath his chin . he buys himself a moment to curate a lie by splashing the blood away . even tutting at himself before easily gliding into , " bit my lip earlier . hurt like a motherfucker . " and then he turns around to flip the script . " — no shit it's mine . you think it's someone else's ? "