𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧.

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thank you for the feature !⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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TWs:

mild discussion of violence, drinking of alcohol, mild mentions of religion

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The bruised bridge of a nose is the currency of masculinity. Given, received, taken. This is what separates boy and man, and he knows this well enough. Existence panders, it is not a chore to close your fist. Healing, too, is facile to the unfocused.

Anthony takes to the bottle and names it faith, an indulgence in promise. If you can't pray to the Lord, that desperation has to go somewhere. This acknowledgement is an allergy and continues in bloodshot eyes and bloody noses. Muscles have memory, and what a painful phenomenon that is.

"That's a nice lookin' shiner. You been out fightin'?"

"Don't matter." Anthony didn't traffic in the truth too often. Matter was all it did. All everything was.

"Your daddy's lookin' for you."

"Told him you seen me?"

"No." Robbie sat himself on the edge of the bench. Though at dawn, there was a distinct manner in which the horizon split the stretch of ocean and sky. When the sun set, they dissolved into one. It became indistinguishable from itself, and this void pacified like no other. "You gotta get out of that head of yours, y'know? You can't keep running off whenever you like just 'cause stuff don't suit."

"Why not?"

"Just ain't the way things are done, Decker."

Anthony thumbed the rim of his empty bottle, the grit of sandy flesh against glass. He knew personhood was plastic and flimsy, as was parenthood, and his father was not looking for him. "I ain't worried about all that."

"Listen," Robbie began, fumbling a few fingers into the fabric of his pocket and wriggling a cigarette free. He talked with his hands, and by extension, his habits. "The world ain't a dandy place to be, you know it, but moping and whining don't get you what you want. You gotta work like your daddy, and your pa, and all the men before him. You'll find a girl as good as you and stop this bullshit. I know it. Gettin' married'll straighten you right out."

The cigarette had been lit and danced in the air with the choreography of a sparkler in the hand of a child. Anthony settled himself further into the planks of the bench with a rough exhale. The knuckles in his fingers cracked against the cool neck of his bottle. "I'm never gettin' married."

"That'll change."

"Won't. You ain't ever get married, and you're doin' just fine."

The silence that followed settled as neatly as the fit of skin over bone, only nicked at by the muted roll of waves breaking on the shore. Whether this was a show of defeat or something else, Anthony could not tell. The jarring wrath of the youthful attraction to the claim of hypocrisy had angst coated solidity. Anthony could not succumb to the want of conventionality. Domesticity would not flush his imperfections. It was difficult to that life was not scripted, and car journeys, handshakes, or second breakfasts morphed the course of existence. Perhaps it was the clarity that adolescents self-identified or an idea truly prominent in humankind but shrouded by tradition. Regardless, Anthony would rebuke it until the earth swallowed him.

Robbie whistled very slightly as he spoke, born of a broken front tooth. "Alright, Decker. Enough of that. You gonna come home?"

This is tested, tried and bent against a lack of will, but stubbornness can grow to wilt, and Anthony nods.

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notes:

hello everyone :pray: 🏻

I've been struggling to write as of late. my rp partners will be well aware of this :-1: 🏻 :-1: 🏻. howeverrr, I churned this out this morning to get my brain working, and I quite liked it. so responses are coming soon, everyone, and I appreciate you and your patience. and I hope you enjoyed this little scrap haha 🗣

idk wtf amino has done to the spacing :pensive:

photo creds:

1) can't find

#FeCoreview