Jeff should know by now that it's better to stay inside. He should know that when the sky begins to fall, and stars touch down on the ground, he should stay far, far away from them. It's safe in the Oak & Iron, and he's not a fighter, not by any fucking definition of the word.
Besides, it's really cold outside, so that's just another reason to avoid the aurora and all the bullshit outside, anyway.
But. The thing is...
He's drawn to it. Every night, he watches from his window, like some fucking fairytale princess locked away from the rest of the world. It's strange and beautiful and shouldn't be real, and he can't look away. Every night, he wants to go out and see the stars, and he has to force himself to stay put, looking out the window until he can't keep his eyes open anymore.
Sleep. Rinse. Repeat.
The yearning grows every night, and look, Jeff's never been good at saying 'no.' Not to himself, anyway. Not to his wants and needs and fixations. It's honestly a wonder he's even held out this long.
Tonight, he's at the beach, bundled up and sitting in the sand, tipsy and singing to an audience of none as the stars begin to fall. His head's tilted up, watching, anticipating, heart pounding with... excitement? Adrenaline? Dread?
Maybe he'll die tonight. Maybe he'll finally get to live his dream of touching a star, burning up in it, becoming something... something beautiful and out of this world.
there's a starman waiting in the sky [closed to Zelda] cw: passive suicidal ideation
Besides, it's really cold outside, so that's just another reason to avoid the aurora and all the bullshit outside, anyway.
But. The thing is...
He's drawn to it. Every night, he watches from his window, like some fucking fairytale princess locked away from the rest of the world. It's strange and beautiful and shouldn't be real, and he can't look away. Every night, he wants to go out and see the stars, and he has to force himself to stay put, looking out the window until he can't keep his eyes open anymore.
Sleep. Rinse. Repeat.
The yearning grows every night, and look, Jeff's never been good at saying 'no.' Not to himself, anyway. Not to his wants and needs and fixations. It's honestly a wonder he's even held out this long.
Tonight, he's at the beach, bundled up and sitting in the sand, tipsy and singing to an audience of none as the stars begin to fall. His head's tilted up, watching, anticipating, heart pounding with... excitement? Adrenaline? Dread?
Maybe he'll die tonight. Maybe he'll finally get to live his dream of touching a star, burning up in it, becoming something... something beautiful and out of this world.