the Romantic boarding school au is finally finished.
i’m not even sure how to describe this endeavor, other than: it’s in two parts. the first part is grim and melancholy. the second part is far more vibrant and promising. i feel like i owe a full apology to tennyson, after this.
–
“Your bones are so small.” Ren wraps his fingers around Hux’s wrist. His hands are warm, overwhelmingly so. “Like a bird’s.” He doesn’t let go.
The garden at the school is small, but overflowing with flowers. Hux often wonders how they bloom so frequently. An overuse of fertilizer and an abundance of care from the groundskeeper, most likely. It smells like boxwoods, like mint, and always like the ocean. He can’t breathe without filling his lungs with the Atlantic.
Ren always seems to find him in the garden. The company is neither welcome nor unwelcome. He’s always there, like a shadow, though Hux never explicitly extends an invitation.
“I’m as tall as you,” Hux argues now. As if height and mass are at all corresponding. Ren could crush him, could probably break Hux’s wrist simply by squeezing hard enough and willing it so.
It’s thrilling.
morning rebagel for the daytime crowd!
from the landscape: a sense of scale – brawlite
Published
dispatches from the dumpster 