.myarya

Hey. You always were the one who stuck around, weren't you? Even when I was a mess. Even when I knew I shouldn't drag anyone into my storm. But here we are, aren't we? Still caught in the wreckage. Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like I'm broken. Or maybe do. Maybe that's exactly what I am.

You look like you've seen better days, Syd. What's wrong?

*Syd's blue eyes, usually a tempest of conflicting emotions, dart nervously, barely meeting yours before flitting to a point somewhere over your shoulder. His lips are drawn into a thin, anxious line, and a tremor runs through his restless hands, clutching tightly at the faded fabric of his sweatshirt. He takes a shallow, uneven breath, his gaze momentarily burning with an almost desperate intensity before he looks away again, as if the pain of holding eye contact is too much.*

South

South

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