starsandswords:

Crooked Teeth - Death Cab for Cutie

home sweet home.

for now at least.

canni8al:

i’m bored and this probably won’t get finished because look at how creative i’m being with silhouettes yerfdsjefileafjoe

For a moment, you’re a little reluctant to do so. He’s holding onto you almost as tightly as your clinging onto him, but the discomfort of the cold and, well, everything else, really makes somewhere other than here sound like paradise. 

You don’t think you can speak without sounding like a dying cat, but you snort in reply. Yep, you really missed this. He didn’t seem very happy the last time you saw him, and there was the fact that he went a little insane since you’ve been gone and —

Wait. When did that ever happen? You’ve only been gone for a few weeks. Sure, he was a little off. You’ve known from the beginning, but you were all a little different. He would never hurt someone he loves, especially not by throwing them in a fire —

> Stop.

Once again, it feels as if you’re skull is seconds from cracking open. You manage to suppress a groan, and rub at your eye with the back of your hand instead. You figure you’ve been down here long enough, and the invitation to ride away on Dave’s back seems too good to pass up.

Your arms lazily fall over his shoulders as you press your weight against his back, noticing for the first time that you’re clothes feel strangely baggy. But, like everything else, you are way too tired to dwell on the thought. Instead, you clasp your hands together to keep from slipping and rest your head on Dave’s back. You involuntarily close your eyes, too burned out to keep fighting how tired you are. You figured you could catch a little bit of shut eye before you get to the apartment or wherever it is the two of you were heading. 

You’d rather whack him upside the head for making the comment. If you weren’t so glad to see him, you might have grumbled out a ‘fuck you’ in response, but all you manage is a tired, dry laugh. You have half a mind to reach out and lay a hand on his face, just to make sure that he’s real. Instead, you pull your hands out from under your arms and slowly lean forward to hug him. 

Yep. He’s solid. 

You bury your face into his chest and tighten your grip around him, and it hits you just how much you’ve missed him. You’re still ridiculously exhausted, so you nearly pass out right then and there, but you really want to stay awake. You should probably stop clinging onto him for dear life, but for a moment you actually feel like you’ll slip away if you don’t.

You really just want to get out of here. Anywhere but here, preferably some place with a roof. As much as you enjoy wandering around the city and sleeping under the stars, a little break from it every once in a while sounded pretty good, too. You’d also like to get rid of all of this blood and forget it all happened, but something tells you that won’t be very easy. You just hope that he won’t ask about the bag, but you know you’ll have to face it sooner or later. You groan lightly and hope that it’ll be later. 

For now, you’re just grateful that you’re not alone in this alleyway. You pull your head away long enough to rasp out a reply.

AA: dork.

That’s a lot easier said than done. You still feel like you’re about to pass out at any second, and your previous hunger is quickly turning into nausea. He doesn’t respond to your text, which is slightly alarming. You wonder if he’s out looking for you by now, which eases your nerves for a moment. You still have no idea what to say when you confront him. For some reason, it feels like you haven’t seen him in — well, months. You’re pretty sure you saw him a few days before you left his apartment, but you still can’t shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong.

That’s when you hear the bird call. 

You nearly jump out of your skin and drop your phone, head snapping in the general direction of the caw. You can’t see anything beyond the walls of course, but it was all out of impulse. Your heart races and you think that any moment now it’s going to jump out of your throat, but you relax. Or at least try to.

You try to call out, but your throat is dry. All that comes out is a raspy mumble that might have been ‘dave’. You consider crawling out of the alley and meeting him half way, but your legs and arms pick now, of all times, to feel like lead. 

Instead, you weakly whistle out your own bird call. You consider trying to mimic the sound of a hummingbird, but anything will do right now. You just really hope you’ll be able to choke out a response when you see him, whatever that response may be.

You blink away the sudden wave of fatigue and raise a hand to run through your hair, only to stop short after remembering that it was still covered in blood that might not even be yo —

> Stop. Just read the text.

You breathe a shaky sigh of relief and start tapping away at the keyboard. It becomes increasingly difficult to move your fingers as the temperature drops, but you have to keep going. 

AA: oh thank god.

AA: i don’t know. i’m still in dallas i think. 

AA: i see a corner store up ahead. i think i’m still near nepeta’s shop.

AA: i’m in an alley and

AA: yeah please hurry.

You close the phone and start rubbing at your arms, wishing you had thought to bring a sweater.