07-24-2020, 04:47 PM
#d69342[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 1.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Life had started to mimic normality, this time with much more force.
Normality was a subjective term, however, defined by what ought to be expected. What was typical, but to who? To most people, a life of normality would refer to that slow and steady cycle of living to one’s fullest. The idea of growing up into a world you adored; finding yourself through passion and hobbies; finding love, settling down, having a family; being happy.
Franklin almost had it all, but that normality wasn’t typical of his life.
Lulled into that sense of security, it was only time until his core would be shaken back into the reality of what was normal to him. His life was not one of routine but one which had been tainted from the very beginning. Life, to Frank, was loss - it was amazing to see what humans could do, staggering on despite all of the trepidation along the way. His life was not one to live, but one to fear the worst because he’d already seen what the worst looked like. Despite a privileged life, it was one that had come with copious amounts of risk and grief to get where they had eventually gotten.
Frank had experienced more loss in his life than he would be willing to admit. Not even the loss of people who he had loved dearly, but the loss of his home, all things sentimental to him. The loss of his innocence, the loss of his childhood, the loss of what made him Franklin Stirling-Moray. Stripped of his own identity, thrust into a world where death superseded morality. In a world where he was the bearer of death to many, he had to have expected that in this circle of life, the same fate would eventually be granted to him, too.
Roman would save Frank, and then Frank would kill him.
How cruel was it to unwittingly seal his lover's fate when Roman had been the one to grant Frank a life worth living?
The room was static and dark as Frank watched his lover rest with a heavy, deathly heart. Who could be there to soothe him as he fought for his life? No one; only Frank. The man, himself, who had led him closer to his death was now the man with the salty eyes as he cried at his side. Roman didn’t deserve to die.
When, at last, he woke up, Frank held onto Roman and didn’t let go. Lips pressed to his neck were little affirmations that Roman was alive and that Frank would always be here for him. That was the promise he made ever since he chose to commit himself to Roman Darrow. Had he done enough, though? Had he done enough to be there for Roman? Perhaps he hadn’t; Roman was admittedly an irretrievable mess, something which could have been prevented if Franklin had only realized that this life of his was permanent. He could try to run away from his normality all he could; but ultimately Life followed him wherever he went.
As did Death on most days.
With dawn swiftly approaching, the orange sky filtered a warm hue across the lovers’ faces, Frank’s cold eyes darting across Roman’s tear-stained skin apprehensively. His nerves tore through him as he urged those words out. Would Roman still love him upon learning about the monster he had let into his heart? Frank hoped that Roman would not despise him; he was not his family. He wasn't a monster like they were, was he?
Did they not all have blood on their hands somehow, where something somewhere within them and those around them had to die for them to live on? Frank was barely the person he was a year ago - he’d killed who he used to be - but being a killer did not make him a bad person.
He never meant to hurt Roman.
Roman shimmied himself up into a seated position, as if poised and prepared to run if Frank’s words spoke nothing but the harsh truth. That Frank was the reason for his suffering, and would forever be the reason that he had nearly died that day. ❝ What do you mean? ❞ Roman urged softly, but instead of retreating as Frank would have expected someone to flinch away from their killer, Roman embraced the touch of death as he rested a hand of reassurance on Frank’s knee. Frank sighed, though with a quivering breath, as he broke his gaze away from Roman’s beautiful blues so that he could instead focus on the warmth of his gentle touch.
Some people clung to life for longer than expected. Frank was grateful for that fact.
❝ What I mean is- ❞ His throat felt tight as taut brows bunched together in thought. Head shook from side to side, like a gentle flutter. Bewilderment. He’d finally have to shine a light upon the darkest crevices of his life. A sliver of the morning light caught onto perturbed features, lips parted ever-so-slightly. The thin line of light traveled down his chest as if, if it were powerful enough, it could open up his chest and reveal the two hearts that were beating. The man he wanted to be, and the man he was born to be.
❝ Well- ❞ It felt impossible to speak when his thoughts were drowned out by the painful thud, thud, thud of his heart. Face twitched with a grimace, shuffling uncomfortably. ❝ I didn’t know how, or when, to tell you… But my family? Dammit. Basically, they lead one of the- the most notorious crime families out there in this day and age. They're dangerous. I'm dangerous. ❞
Jaw trembled, Frank exhaling a controlled breath through rounded lips before glancing over at Roman with shame. ❝ My brother, Eddie, took over the family business after our dad died. After everything I’d seen leading up to that moment, I knew that I couldn’t be part of any of it anymore. That family, they’re just all levels of fucked up. My dad killed my older brother, my younger brother killed my dad. My dad killed my mom, and I think my brother tried to kill… you. ❞
Slowly, Frank lowered his head, leaning closer to press his shoulder against Roman’s. A silent plea for reassurance. They would be all right, right? Frank swallowed hard, ❝ I thought that I had finally gotten away from that life, and I don’t know why they’d want to hurt you, but I have some ideas. I’m sorry, Ro. I should have told you sooner. I shouldn’t have left you in the dark. I’m a liability, and it- it felt too hard to tell you, but it's even harder telling you now under these circumstances… when it’s already too late. You almost died because of me - of who I am - and I understand if you never want to see me again after this is over. Hell, I'd never want to see me again. ❞
He chose straighten up again, allowing Roman that opportunity to run whilst he still could. ❝ I'm so, so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you, Ro. I don't want to hurt you, I promise. I'm not like my family. I'm sorry. ❞
Normality was a subjective term, however, defined by what ought to be expected. What was typical, but to who? To most people, a life of normality would refer to that slow and steady cycle of living to one’s fullest. The idea of growing up into a world you adored; finding yourself through passion and hobbies; finding love, settling down, having a family; being happy.
Franklin almost had it all, but that normality wasn’t typical of his life.
Lulled into that sense of security, it was only time until his core would be shaken back into the reality of what was normal to him. His life was not one of routine but one which had been tainted from the very beginning. Life, to Frank, was loss - it was amazing to see what humans could do, staggering on despite all of the trepidation along the way. His life was not one to live, but one to fear the worst because he’d already seen what the worst looked like. Despite a privileged life, it was one that had come with copious amounts of risk and grief to get where they had eventually gotten.
Frank had experienced more loss in his life than he would be willing to admit. Not even the loss of people who he had loved dearly, but the loss of his home, all things sentimental to him. The loss of his innocence, the loss of his childhood, the loss of what made him Franklin Stirling-Moray. Stripped of his own identity, thrust into a world where death superseded morality. In a world where he was the bearer of death to many, he had to have expected that in this circle of life, the same fate would eventually be granted to him, too.
Roman would save Frank, and then Frank would kill him.
How cruel was it to unwittingly seal his lover's fate when Roman had been the one to grant Frank a life worth living?
The room was static and dark as Frank watched his lover rest with a heavy, deathly heart. Who could be there to soothe him as he fought for his life? No one; only Frank. The man, himself, who had led him closer to his death was now the man with the salty eyes as he cried at his side. Roman didn’t deserve to die.
When, at last, he woke up, Frank held onto Roman and didn’t let go. Lips pressed to his neck were little affirmations that Roman was alive and that Frank would always be here for him. That was the promise he made ever since he chose to commit himself to Roman Darrow. Had he done enough, though? Had he done enough to be there for Roman? Perhaps he hadn’t; Roman was admittedly an irretrievable mess, something which could have been prevented if Franklin had only realized that this life of his was permanent. He could try to run away from his normality all he could; but ultimately Life followed him wherever he went.
As did Death on most days.
With dawn swiftly approaching, the orange sky filtered a warm hue across the lovers’ faces, Frank’s cold eyes darting across Roman’s tear-stained skin apprehensively. His nerves tore through him as he urged those words out. Would Roman still love him upon learning about the monster he had let into his heart? Frank hoped that Roman would not despise him; he was not his family. He wasn't a monster like they were, was he?
Did they not all have blood on their hands somehow, where something somewhere within them and those around them had to die for them to live on? Frank was barely the person he was a year ago - he’d killed who he used to be - but being a killer did not make him a bad person.
He never meant to hurt Roman.
Roman shimmied himself up into a seated position, as if poised and prepared to run if Frank’s words spoke nothing but the harsh truth. That Frank was the reason for his suffering, and would forever be the reason that he had nearly died that day. ❝ What do you mean? ❞ Roman urged softly, but instead of retreating as Frank would have expected someone to flinch away from their killer, Roman embraced the touch of death as he rested a hand of reassurance on Frank’s knee. Frank sighed, though with a quivering breath, as he broke his gaze away from Roman’s beautiful blues so that he could instead focus on the warmth of his gentle touch.
Some people clung to life for longer than expected. Frank was grateful for that fact.
❝ What I mean is- ❞ His throat felt tight as taut brows bunched together in thought. Head shook from side to side, like a gentle flutter. Bewilderment. He’d finally have to shine a light upon the darkest crevices of his life. A sliver of the morning light caught onto perturbed features, lips parted ever-so-slightly. The thin line of light traveled down his chest as if, if it were powerful enough, it could open up his chest and reveal the two hearts that were beating. The man he wanted to be, and the man he was born to be.
❝ Well- ❞ It felt impossible to speak when his thoughts were drowned out by the painful thud, thud, thud of his heart. Face twitched with a grimace, shuffling uncomfortably. ❝ I didn’t know how, or when, to tell you… But my family? Dammit. Basically, they lead one of the- the most notorious crime families out there in this day and age. They're dangerous. I'm dangerous. ❞
Jaw trembled, Frank exhaling a controlled breath through rounded lips before glancing over at Roman with shame. ❝ My brother, Eddie, took over the family business after our dad died. After everything I’d seen leading up to that moment, I knew that I couldn’t be part of any of it anymore. That family, they’re just all levels of fucked up. My dad killed my older brother, my younger brother killed my dad. My dad killed my mom, and I think my brother tried to kill… you. ❞
Slowly, Frank lowered his head, leaning closer to press his shoulder against Roman’s. A silent plea for reassurance. They would be all right, right? Frank swallowed hard, ❝ I thought that I had finally gotten away from that life, and I don’t know why they’d want to hurt you, but I have some ideas. I’m sorry, Ro. I should have told you sooner. I shouldn’t have left you in the dark. I’m a liability, and it- it felt too hard to tell you, but it's even harder telling you now under these circumstances… when it’s already too late. You almost died because of me - of who I am - and I understand if you never want to see me again after this is over. Hell, I'd never want to see me again. ❞
He chose straighten up again, allowing Roman that opportunity to run whilst he still could. ❝ I'm so, so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you, Ro. I don't want to hurt you, I promise. I'm not like my family. I'm sorry. ❞
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I CAN'T HELP MYSELF THE MOMENT THAT I LET IT GO
[sup]IS WHEN I FIND I'M IN CONTROL, I'M IN CONTROL.
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