phloxxiing: KALOPSIA, CHARACTER INTRODUCTION
phloxxiing: KALOPSIA, CHARACTER INTRODUCTIONALEC GIBSON FATHER, ARTIST, REPRESENTING HERR DROSSELMEYER. Alec wakes up. A racing pulse and ragged breathing leave him dizzy, sitting up and staggering from the bed on unsteady legs. Dreams. Never an entire truth to them, time is a poison that Alec doubts even something like the Thing could fully escape from. Yet. That separation, the colors and shapes his mind struggles to even consider, and the way it was trying to push into him. He rests a hand against his chest. Unsurprised to feel The Golden Thing already there, soft in pressure and circling around his stretching lungs. Foolish, he thinks, there isn’t a way, not so quickly. The Golden Thing pushes harder. A cough rips out of Alec’s throat, and he swallows through a throat swollen so tight that it aches. Slowly he settles back upon his bed. Tries to count his breathing, the fur beneath his fingers when he blindly reaches for Bambi’s sleeping form. “No.” He says, as if the word could erase anything. Weight against his lungs again, and they have been together enough for him to know what it means. Yes, Alec hears in the uncomfortable sensation. Alec blinks quickly, tries to chase the burning away as tears start to gather. “Fuck. Fuck, we just— this isn’t fair.” How quickly The Golden Thing relents from pushing. Yes, again, and a brittle laughter breaks out of Alec’s gritting teeth. No real sympathy from a Thing like that, he thinks. No real anything from it but what they’ve already agreed upon no matter how it would like to play along. Give an inch. But no, he has no interest in giving. He fumbles for a moment, brings his phone away from the bedside table it rests on and finds the number with ease. There isn’t a way that his doctor doesn’t await a call for him. No person should survive this, after all. So many have told him this before. That it’s a wonder that Alec has done it so many times, a no answer, no way to explain that leaves a gouging rift between the many who know of his sickness. The none who know of the Thing. Alec draws a shaking breath in and rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. Then, dials the number. Draws steadiness to him so that, when leaving a message, his voice will not shake. A bad feeling, he thinks he’ll say. Just want to see what’s going on with my insides. What else is there to say? In this, as so many other things, Alec knows he is alone. tag list. like this post tba. Keep reading -- source link
#its just#so impactful