like a shadow | {shrimp / dars}

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Show me how to lie
You're getting better all the time
And turning all against the one
Is an art that's hard to teach

He was disappointed, honestly. Maugrim had been looking forward to his french vanilla decaf coffee all day, only to find out the coffee shop he and Kori had gone to didn't have such a thing. He tried to mask his indifference in the day's dying light, choosing to focus on the streetlights reflecting off Black Harbor. He had liked the piers. Well, he liked the quiet; wasn't much of a water fan ever since that one time he'd almost drowned.

Winter bit at his fingers; he was grateful for the warmth of his drink, if nothing else.

"Do you think," he said, his eyes still focused on the water, "Anyone's ever hidden a body in there?"

The answer was: probably. In fact, since it was so far away from his parents' house, they'd probably hidden bodies there themselves. He smirked, half because he liked to feel like he knew shit and half because it was fucking terrifying. He tried to see the bottom, but couldn't.

"It's plenty deep."

He came to a stop, leaning his arms against the railing, watching as the dark sea below lapped into the side of the concrete world they lived in. Little bits of froth fizzed along the surface, watery reflection of the sun's adieu. Everything was bathed in indigo, a kind of quiet mysticism that made him feel invisible in the sort of way that also made him feel invincible. You can't kill a shadow, he thought.

Maugrim was hyper aware of how reckless he could be; the scars served as reminders. But, the way he saw it, he got fucked up just as often from the mundane things as he did from doing something fun. At least the latter came with a cool story. Imagine the look on people's face when he had to tell them he got a busted lip because he was chewing on a mechanical pen and the spring popped out.

He sipped from his boring, normal hot chocolate one last time before dropping it over the edge and pulling out a match and a pair of cigarettes. The stars hadn't come out yet; he liked to keep a track on them when he had time, see how many he could count before there were too many to. He tucked one of the cigarettes into his mouth and let himself find Kori in the dying day, "It just seems practical is all. How many times have you seen someone actually in this water?"

As long as he could remember, he'd been coming here. The buildings seemed older, the sidewalks lonesome and winding and cracked. The few people who did find themselves here kept quiet, kept their hands in their pockets and their eyes forward. Not friendly, exactly, but there was an unexplainable sort of nostalgia and respect that came with the territory and he found it charming.

He hadn't ever seen someone swimming in Black Harbor. Not that he blamed them. Even he wasn't stupid enough to try and wade through the muck and grime, the years of empty hot chocolate cups and cigarette butts that littered the water.

He struck his match against the wrought iron rail and lit his cigarette up, before offering the other to Kori.

"You smoke?" he asked, the burning end illuminating his features.

Another clever word
Sets off an unsuspecting herd
And as you get back into line
A mob jumps to their feet

song: you're gonna go far, kid