❀ IC INBOX

[intoningly]

[ To the tune of a programmed animatronic voice ]

"This user's voicemail inbox is full. Thank you, goodbye."

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Comments

[extirpator]

[ water rushes down his back, matting his hair down. it's cool and pricks against his skin, and he doesn't react, not initially, crouched there in silence as she speaks.

slowly, surely, does he stand up. his hair clings to the sides of his face. he dusts off his shirt. ]

There's something that you want from me, but I can't give it to you. I can't give it to anyone.

[ honesty? atonement? regret? nothing at all, everything at once?

if he let himself regret, even for a moment, he would crumble. he would suffocate to sleep. he would cry, and he would scream, an immovable object dwelling in its own misery.

if he let himself regret, let alone feel, he would do it with the entirety of who he is. it would hurt so terribly. it did, once. ]

There's no point in rolling over and dying. It's not going to ease the pain of the people who hate you, and it'll only serve to hurt the people who love you. I'll nurture this world and its people until I meet my end. I don't know if that's good or if it's bad, it doesn't matter either way; it's all I can do right now.

[ and then— ]

Go and refill the watering can.