borders :: Boy x Coco {blitz}

[pogue]

Nearly a year later and she's having nightmares. Clenched fists and broken hearts, she sees her hand intertwined with his, counting the number of heartbeats she can feel through his fingertips before she breaks. Mind numb, vision blurred, the dream cuts and she watches him rise, sees eyes like the color of a rotting sea look at her, blues and greens melting in his irises. 

She smiles, he frowns.

"Who are you?" 

The dream shatters and like broken glass she falls, catapulting into the real world before her lungs eat themselves and she chokes on her own breath, flying up straight in bed and gasping, sweat pooling on her skin. Again and again, over and over she feels his pulse and feels every memory he had escape his mind when he wakes up. Forgotten, she rises in the morning, and every afternoon she visits him hoping that he will wake up.


Hoping he will wake up, hoping he will remember. 

But she's no knight in armor, this is no fairytale. 


The crowds of the Capital just don't seem the same anymore, now that her brother has slipped into whatever fucked up state he's in. The orange strip of her hair falls into her face just as the clouds part , and for a second she burns like fire. Like a phoenix from ashes she raises her head, setting her jaw and surveying the bustle of an afternoon in the Capital. 

And there he is, her instincts catch onto the slightest of bizarre activity. The sun illuminates him like a light in the dark and her brown eyes focus in, watching his movement as his head dips down, eyes wavering. 

After a moment, he begins moving again.

After another, she follows. 

[анзие (Anz)]

B   O   Y

The memory is c-cold, ice formed in deadly spikes down the roof of a tiny house and grey puffs of smoke spilling out like clouds across the clear blue sky. Frost clings to your face, gently pulling warmth and feeling from your cheeks, and your teeth sting, hurt, but nothing bleeds. Your tongue flickers over enamel, hoping to press the pain away but it comes back the moment it senses dampness on your being. Yet something stirs, content, like ribbons wrapping around your heart nice and tight and warm, sending life outwards from your chest. There is no one around, but yet it is well.

You blink as a force collides roughly into you with an annoyed hiss of, "Get a move on, fuckboy," and a disgruntled magenta bird stalks away with a dirty look over his shoulder at you. Licking your teeth nervously, you check the note in your hand - handwritten in Master's haphazard scrawl demanding the finest cognac from a frou-frou store - and take a quick look around. You're nowhere near the place, you know, but Master has been lenient with you of late and you enjoy your solitary walks through the busy city. 

Yet today feels different - it feels a little bit like a pair of eyes on the exposed nape of your neck, or perhaps it sounds like a pair of feet echoing your own beneath the sounds of New Year's Eve in the Capitol. Years of practice has you recognizing that - like an idiot - you have completely failed to notice your new shadow, lost in memories you must lock away but haven't the heart to. 

That is the sort of mistake that gets you sent back to your trainer - or worse, your Master killed.

Breathing deep, you look back to find dark brown eyes staring. And stop.

What do you want?

[pogue]

Silence. She knows it well. 

Broken family dinners and she is fourteen again, picking at the meal on her plate, eyes like chocolate scanning the table in front of her. The sounds of metal against glass as their forks fall and rise are like a symphony that no one had ever asked for, a choir for the damned, singing praises as they sit. Her father grunts, clearing his throat before glancing at each of them, the food in his mouth snaking down his throat before he speaks-

"Shitty weather today, huh?" 

Grunts and nods, the followers of his church scream and clamor for more and the choir echoes on in the background. His father's eyes meet Avery's and she drops her gaze, her father's praises and her brother's polite replies ebbing and flowing into one another, fading into the murky depths of the background. She focuses on the white of her plate, the way it glimmers like snow in the sunlight and the way it's cold to the touch. 

His fingers are cold, too, she winces when he feels them each day, pulls her hand back into her uniform. Silence, she knows it- sees it in the form of her brother, the way she can hardly even hear him breathing anymore. White- it bleeds from the hospital room and falls into her gaze until her eyes burn and she cannot take it anymore, packing up her things and leaving, counting his breaths as the door closes. 

White, Cold, Silent. She runs her fingertips against her uniform as she follows, white like snow in the city circle, her fingertips withdrawing from the cold surface. 

Silent- he turns to face her and her eyes narrow.

She curses herself. For a hunter, he sure had picked up on her quickly. 

She sees it in his body language, the way his eyes speak for him and the way his limbs tighten. Avox, the word burns into her mind and she approaches, straightening her peacekeeper uniform and scanning his being, marking the note held tight between his fingertips.

"Anything to show why you are wandering around the City Circle blindly, kid?"