[ the tight curl of his fingers into his fists is reflex, the kind of automatic pull that chuck has felt his entire life. the need to lash out, to take the fight wherever and however he can is in his blood the way the moon draws on the tide. he wants to feel the knuckles of his right hand collide, to know the precise moment that he'll feel them turn black and blue so he can tell himself he's satisfied. that it's enough.
his chest hitches up, hard and fast and chuck knows when to leave it well enough alone. chuck doesn't have anything to say to that (it's a lie, he has too goddamn many things to say and no idea how to say them)- so he doesn't say anything at all. ]
[ the thing is, he hears that hitch as much as he feels it. no, he hadn't drifted with Chuck last, and yeah, they'd been severed when his boy went up in smoke— but just by being there, something residual must have clicked. Herc's chest seizes up and he doesn't let it come through, but if they were drifting— Chuck would know he's as scared as his kid is. ]
Got up t'fourty eight hours to figure this shit out. Don't have time to walkabout.
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heracleidae) wrote2013-09-06 11:57 pm
( v : d 1 | audio) --> later that day
his chest hitches up, hard and fast and chuck knows when to leave it well enough alone. chuck doesn't have anything to say to that (it's a lie, he has too goddamn many things to say and no idea how to say them)- so he doesn't say anything at all. ]
Don't drag your ass about it.
( v : d 1 | audio) --> later that day
Got up t'fourty eight hours to figure this shit out. Don't have time to walkabout.