Author Topic: times won't change me — open.  (Read 308 times)

Offline green.

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times won't change me — open.
« on: September 23, 2021, 04:02:30 PM »
tw. mentions of past abuse

It had been a couple days since the dream. Maybe an omen, or maybe he should put it down as fortuitous. But it was a sign of change all the same. Vernon resisted all articles of clothing that felt restricting on his body. Thick, bulky hoodies that were constraining across the chest, weighed his shoulders down, suffocated him. Even long sleeved shirts were out of the question for Vernon would notice as the fabric would brush across the skin of his arms in the most sickening of ways. As if he was always on high alert. Long sleeved clothing had always been something that Vernon tended to avoid until the winters obliged him to layer up somewhat more.

It was when he developed a relationship with Mateo that he wore nothing but clothing that could enshroud him until he felt that he could hide behind fabric. His chapped, bloodied lips. Bruised knees from where he fell. Cheekbones so sharp and hollowed eye bags dark and glossy as the sunlight crept through the window and into the room he no longer left out of his own aversion to face the world. Lacerations like lightning bolts across the skin he no longer revealed. A plea for help so silent and meek and still he became a prisoner in his own home. Vernon would brush it off with a casual laugh if anyone were to ever question him, but he struggled with long sleeved clothing because it made him think of Mateo. It made him think of the extremes he had to endure to lie through his teeth to everyone that cared for him that he was okay.

No one ever expected the man to be a victim.

With brows narrowed in contemplation, Vernon carded through a clothing rack in a quaint boutique on the corner of the town square, eyes darting to the side as he offered the shopkeeper a gentle smile. ❝ What do you think of this one, Mila? ❞ He questioned the middle aged woman who soon swivelled the chair she sat upon so that she could distinguish each subtle pattern of the sweatshirt that Vernon had picked out. ❝ Very nice. It’s even got two buttons that you could undo if you were ever feeling extra brazen one day. ❞ She remarked with a playful huff of the breath, earning a grin from Vernon as he noted, ❝ Oh, double cheeky. ❞ With little more than a chuckle, Vernon stepped over towards the front of the shop to pay for the three sweatshirts and two coats he had picked up.

❝ So what’s the occasion then, Greenie? ❞ The shopkeeper enquired as she exchanged Bones with him. With a twitching lip, Vernon lowered his gaze to scan across the articles of clothing. Memories no longer felt so real, as if he were living through the hurt all over again. Purple knees. Bloodied, mangled skin threaded across his raw back. Blood seeping through bandages. Split lip. Grazed cheek. Bruised eye. Broken heart. A body that was once intended to house laughter and joy, the sound of music to lift any broken person’s spirit. A liberator, an angel. Reduced to a shadow fleeing from the light, body quivering with apprehension whenever anyone would utter his name.

That was no longer the man that Vernon had been reduced to. Removing his last piece of armour he once called the fear, he was that much closer to healing. There was no better time than now to take this leap of faith. He didn’t have to wear any of these articles for many more weeks or months if he were to falter. It wasn’t a sign of weakness, but merely a sign that he was pushing himself too much too soon. With a coy shrug of his shoulder, Vernon replied lightly, ❝ No occasion. I just want to be warm. ❞ He gave her a tender smile before leaving the store, hugging the bundle of clothing close to his chest. Gone were the days of coldness. No, not in the way that the nights could get cold as the crisp prevailing winds tunnelled through the streets of the District, but more precisely in the way that his path to healing was that much closer that he no longer ought to be so silently afraid.

Perhaps someday he’d open up about what he had gone through all those many months ago but, for now, he’d begin his trip down the streets of the District, clothing heaped in his arms as he felt a peculiar excitement at the fact he was finally ready to ease back into this new life of his.
« Last Edit: September 24, 2021, 03:48:04 PM by GREEN. »
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