where two dead hearts lay : : Art & Vallis

[Arrow]

Art Vyserion

    I need something to stir the still waters which lie within me. Since the fall, I've felt nothing except sinful sorrow and narcotic numbness. Closing out the curses and the pain that pierces hearts like knives is easier than letting myself feel. I still see his face when my eyes shutter shut or when dreams dip sweetly into my sleep. In my rare moments of heartfelt happiness, it's his face strewn with straw from the barn and lit by the littlest of candles that comes first into my mind. It was a fleeting and feckless love affair, but my heavy heart felt just that: Love. Despite all the damnation I draw with words around his name in my journals, my heart still quivers like a fly trapped in a spider's web. My lips have been dry since last ours' met within the secluded safety of our haven. I hunger for a revival to my oasis of emotions and compassion, but the rivers which feed its source lie dry without rainfall to bring back the babbling brooks. I am lost in the swirling sands of the desert of heart break.

    Here in this center of sweat stained children all cramming for anything to aide them, I am a singularity. Along the edges within the mists of silent observation I am merely in existence. Every single one of the others works and works towards a goal which in order to achieve every one of them must spring forth scarlet storms. I am numb in my approach to such tactical torment. I do not mind our pitiful place as pawns in some cruel chess game. If I am to die I will do so with my heart already sitting silently inside its biologically crafted cage. I might be more than melodramatic, but for a boy with a forgotten father, a blaming mother, and a closeted cruelty I am capable of stating that already are my waters stilled by the storms of sorrow. 

    Along my route of exterior observation I come across the cream of the chosen crop. Muscles magnificently sculpted, brain brilliantly creative, and looks devilishly deceiving. In an instant my pen is sketching his figure, his form as a spear springs forth from his throw. Simply standing in the shadows of a man as seemingly perfect as him has my heart murmuring. I do not allow ideas of crushing on the killer career to dare sew seeds of thought into my brain. However, inscribing a picture of him upon the pages of paper I hold most dear is far from out of the question. There are worse things to indulge in then the body of beautiful boy.

[tom]

Vallis "Val" Bannister

The spear is hefty in his hands, almost like a football in some ways. Except, it's smooth, silver, and long from how a football is, but it can fly like one. Chucking it forward, all of the momentum flies fast past his hair, pushing it in front of his face. Fingers let go as he doesn't watch is sail. A hand fixes the curve of his hair to get it out of his eyes once again. Viktor would have told him that it was stupid of him to let it bother him, but the tiny stuff always got to him. Never a man to cease opportunity, unless it was getting rejected by the one person who he saved from this suffering. Fists clench as he grinds his teeth for a moment at the memory. No use in being stuck in the past, he huffs some air out as he closes his eyes for a moment.

No use in being strong when he knew death was just around the corner. Every maze had death that was just a turn away from killing them all. Val was strong, but strength wasn't everything. A naive boy who wanted to just love and let his favorite person become his dream, but dreams are for kids and they always shatter in the end. If only the real world were as colorful as his imagination makes it out to be. A hand runs through his hair as he opens his eyes. Time stops for a moment as he's turned away from his original spear throwing spot. Everything's black and white, until perfect dark hair that sways just right catches his eyes. Then the green irises catch the light and his chest starts to hurt just at the sight of them. Green like the trees that sway in the wind. Pink lips that look so kissable are focused together as the thing in his hand moves. Eyes aren't looking to him, but Val can soak up the beauty of one boy who looks miserable.

All he wants to do is make him smile now.

Viktor be damned, this new boy already made his heart beat again and the color glisten to life once more.

Eyes glance to the white blank expanse that has markings beginning on the other side. What could it be? What could the mysterious sad boy be doing? His breath becomes short as he forgets how to breath for a moment, then it all collapses as the boy looks up and Val looks away quickly. The red of his cheeks probably coming to life once more. Was the art going to be him? or was the sad boy focused on something else? All he could was ponder, but for now his feet take him forward in front of the sad boy, until his hands find their way into his pocket. Nervousness in his skin, but he still gets words out of his throat.

"D-Do you ever smile?"

[Arrow]

Art Vyserion

    An unexpected occurrence quivers the constant consistency of my singularity. Although still remaining among the outer reaches of contact with the other caged animals, two eyes appear to spot me. Stunned and stuck with no shadows to slink further into, I have no choice but remain in his stunning stare as though hardly noticing it brightly beaming in my direction. The patterns on my pages before to format and structure into the skin and body of the one who sends shivers down my spine with his stares. My teeth teeter on the edges of my lower lips while the energy of fear and excitement engulf me. With his eye sight affixed towards me, being able to perfectly portray the expanses of his mesmerizing irises is better than ever before. I am almost finished with the final features of his matching picture on paper when his steps draw him into my outer edge of existing.

    For a moment, with the approaching of the boy from two the past pain of my betrayal brings fear flurrying into my chest. My heart heaves taking up home in my throat as suddenly the pen in my hand is quivering before shaking out of grip and slipping towards the floor. A light layer of red rushes across the curves of my cheeks as I am practically on my knees scrambling towards my pen when he finally engages me. Almost every instinct instructs me to run. The others scream soulfully for me to lean right across the thin space between us and just lock our two lips together for... Okay I certainly don't listen to those incredibly inappropriate impulses either. I choose to be clever instead, it is my strong suit after all.

    Snatching the pen from its place on the ground, I rise back up bringing myself to only hold eye contact for a mere minute before looking back towards my pages as though extremely preoccupied. "No ever since suffering a severely tragic incident as a child I've learned that simple stupidities such as smiling cause nothing but false hope and broken dreams." A solid second of silence sits between the two of us before I realize the strapping career with hair as almost as red as roses seems to have completely missed the mark of my sarcasm. I look up from my journal with a small laugh. "Of course I smile sometimes idiot." With such words a smile small and faint fills my face while I continue looking into the elegant illumination of the killer career's eyes.

[tom]

Vallis "Val" Bannister

Like a blossoming dream, it comes crashing down with reality that forms into a nightmare. Pen dropping and red cheeks that only makes his heart beat quicker than before. Terror on a beautiful, yet sad face never looked quite as lovely as it did in this moment, but all good things come to an end. Words of truth comes from the boys lips, missing Val's understanding by a mile. They go over his head like the poems that Viktor used to help him with in school. Roses are red, violets are blue, Sad boy's words, bring something anew. Stupidities hits him hard like the footballs that crash a bit too hard into his stomach. Laughter filling his ears with a sudden grey like sound that just drums around, until he can feel the sharp stab of past rejections.

Then, his eyes meet Val's own with a swirl of something else. Mischief? Sorrow? Joy? Love? Words fly from the boy's oh so reachable lips. Of course I smile sometimes idiot. Idiot hits hard, but there's a playfulness to it that feeds his beating chest, until time stops once more. A smile, small, but strong enough to blind the entire planet in an instance. It radiates heat just from the moment it reaches his vision. Almost daring to mumble a fuck under his breath, he watches with butterflies in his chest. Boys weren't meant to be like this. They were meant to be full of happiness and dreams, not sadness and whatever big word the mysterious boy uses next, melancholy maybe. Like the blossoming dream come true, Val ruins it by speaking again.

"Idiot, really?"

Silence as the only sound in his body is his heartbeat. Val's biting the inside of his cheek as his hand moves gently forward at the journal, hovering gently over it as he lets himself smile for once in a long time. A big one that Viktor used to only create on him, but now it belonged to this sad boy who called him an idiot. Banter. Val could do banter. It was the other stuff that he didn't know how to do. Like telling a handsome boy how his heart hurts just at the sight of him. Or the way that his smile seems to make everything feel like it's not in black and white once more.

"You should smile more, Jerk. You've got a nice one."

Eyes look down at his hand that hovers close to the journal. Permission to look at the man's personal belongings was needed. Mother didn't raise no idiot that didn't follow the rules. Words slip out of his lips as he almost dares to look down.

"So, Jerk, whatcha doing there with that journal?"

[Arrow]

Art Vyserion

    The spacial spectrum of my singular existence now alters into a setting of duality. Conversation far from crippling but instead captivating swirls from the sentences spilling from our lips. My eyes can now only find themselves stationary in his stare. The heart inside my chest which once found itself frozen and fragmented finds new life in a burst of beating. Again my teeth toy with the soft sands of my bottom lip, an action I use far from seductively but more nervously. Hands once capable of creating perfect portraits and sweet sentences still shake unable to even press paper to pen. Alone with my words I am wandering through this astronomical anomaly, alone yet with a new Sun melting the frozen crust of planetary position.  

    This boy beautifully built, also clearly contains a mind prepared for the jokes I churn out constantly. In a response no doubt playful, he produces his own name for myself in the form of jerk. It's not terribly appealing by any set of circumstances, but in this instance it is incredibly effective at making me quiver internally. Further fear funnels from my brain into my body as his hands hover over what is most sacred in my life. His hands now hold themselves above what I consider my heart, the treasure chest housing every ounce of my being. Every secret, every sadness, every inch of me now barely centimeters from his grip. Just the thought sends shivers sprinting down my spine. 

    Stepping back, although forward is what I long for, I pull my journal precariously closer to my chest. Another smile stains my skin as I place my pen in its holder above my right ear. My eyes illuminate with signs of addiction when they turn back towards him from their momentary movement to the floor. So much of me wants nothing more than to explore every last segment of this boy, but other pieces of me pressure for patience. Just minutes ago I was a lost boy on the edges of reality built around a broken heart. 

    "You'll have to earn looking in my journal. It is the doorway to my heart after all."

    I criticize myself for such a ridiculous comment, but looking at this boy such thoughts fade. Why not take a few risks when there could be nothing more than days of life left for either one of us. I've never been entirely confident in myself before, but for now I can at least play this game.