"Comparing ghosts and zombies, yeah...I get that. Besides, back home it's only me who can see the ghosts. Not sure if that makes it better or worse."
For a moment, he pauses, watching as she pulls her hand away and tucks her hair back. She looks tired, in a particularly familiar way that reminds him of how he feels on his bad days, and he laughs too.
"Comparing it to the zombie movies I've seen? Zombies are probably worse. I mean, it's like I'm living in my own personal zombie movie but at least they can't kill anyone. You know? Just...invade my dreams and scream my name constantly and show off their spilled guts and remain completely invisible to anyone but me so I also seem crazy. Tons of fun for the whole family."
A long pull from the joint, and he can feel his head spinning, his mouth feels like it's full of cotton balls, and everything around him is fuzzy, quiet, and it feels so fucking good. So good. After a moment, he realizes he's still holding the smoke in, and he exhales, too uncoordinated to make another ring.
"Mine was definitely not trying to look out for me. He locked me in a mausoleum overnight. What a sadistic prick."
Licking his lips, he rolls his head over to look back at her, and laughs, abrupt and breathy, realizes her fingers are against his wrist, and it feels so nice to be touched.
"Man, it feels really nice to be touched right now."
He says it out loud a second after thinking it, before he's really registered the thought, and he laughs again.
"Hey, you wanna touch me more?"
Turning his hand, he exposes the sensitive skin at his inner forearm. And where she has scars from self-harm, he has track marks, older ones, mostly faded but still present.
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For a moment, he pauses, watching as she pulls her hand away and tucks her hair back. She looks tired, in a particularly familiar way that reminds him of how he feels on his bad days, and he laughs too.
"Comparing it to the zombie movies I've seen? Zombies are probably worse. I mean, it's like I'm living in my own personal zombie movie but at least they can't kill anyone. You know? Just...invade my dreams and scream my name constantly and show off their spilled guts and remain completely invisible to anyone but me so I also seem crazy. Tons of fun for the whole family."
A long pull from the joint, and he can feel his head spinning, his mouth feels like it's full of cotton balls, and everything around him is fuzzy, quiet, and it feels so fucking good. So good. After a moment, he realizes he's still holding the smoke in, and he exhales, too uncoordinated to make another ring.
"Mine was definitely not trying to look out for me. He locked me in a mausoleum overnight. What a sadistic prick."
Licking his lips, he rolls his head over to look back at her, and laughs, abrupt and breathy, realizes her fingers are against his wrist, and it feels so nice to be touched.
"Man, it feels really nice to be touched right now."
He says it out loud a second after thinking it, before he's really registered the thought, and he laughs again.
"Hey, you wanna touch me more?"
Turning his hand, he exposes the sensitive skin at his inner forearm. And where she has scars from self-harm, he has track marks, older ones, mostly faded but still present.