fwarg:

I have 2 hours to get to Church but I need to change and they haven’t even washed the blue dye out yet it or blown out my hair ahhhh

I’m gonna make it with two minutes to spare JESUS

I have 2 hours to get to Church but I need to change and they haven’t even washed the blue dye out yet it or blown out my hair ahhhh

fwarg asked:

cigarettes, a pull-out couch, a vase

likeliterallydead:

“Goddammit…”
His temper flared easily and I used to be scared of it. I learned after awhile it isn’t anger. I pushed over the vase by the door (why he has a vase by the door, I don’t know. He doesn’t keep anything in it) in my hurry to get inside. Winter here breaks me. Bones freezing, I can’t think.
He was bent down, picking up pieces gingerly and avoided looking at me. That way he doesn’t look at me, when he does it, he takes himself out of the moment. I could say anything and he probably wouldn’t hear me. It scares me more now than any temper.
I walked past him and put the plastic bag on the counter, so I could stuff my hands into my pockets. That’s the other thing: it takes me forever to get warm again.

There was something bothering him all morning. I felt it when he shifted in bed, I felt it when he silently got up and made coffee, I felt it on that dumb pull-out couch - sitting just a bit further apart, somehow sitting on the part I never do, sitting on a broken spring. A slight pressure pushing against me. He insisted we go out, that we needed to pick up a few things.

He slid the vase pieces into the trash and then pushed the bag down around the contents to the counter - every sound was louder; I was on edge. I was already sitting on the couch, far against the right-side armrest, and he carried over a bag of Sour Patch Kids and the box of cigarettes we bought to the opposite side. Before sitting, he unlocked and pushed open the window right beside the couch - he positioned the living room this way so he didn’t have to stand and smoke. It didn’t really get rid of the smoke smell, but it probably wasn’t as bad as it would’ve been if he didn’t use the window.
He sat and lit a cigarette, never bothering to pack a box first, and took a deep inhale. He exhaled so slowly, it seemed, and kept his gaze out of the window.

“You all right?”