A war below that can't be seen
Fathoms deep, the mortal shell grows tired
Irrational or pre-determined destiny
Serenity, compulsion crossing wires
Fang swore every profanity under the moon and more, marching his way back to Chris's house. He didn't even know what was going to come of this. This wasn't free! Durant would let it pass only if he cleared the back fence lines tomorrow. Working his ass off for what!? Hurry up for what!? More lecturing? More arguing? He didn't want another apology. The first one was good enough. Fine, Fang did appreciate that it wasn't totally all Fang that was the issue to the breakup. Of course they both had their issues. It was… nice(?) Chris finally understood maybe he was just as much of a dickhead too. Did he want to get back together? Because that ship fucking sank. If this was all a lead up to nothing, Fang might just have to punch his pretty face. Someone had to. Pretty boys had to learn not to be a jackoff too.
Fang lifted a fist to pound on Chris's door but it opened almost immediately. Chris had a different set of clothes on and wet hair; must have just got out of the shower. Chris opened his mouth to say something but there, again, hesitated. Instead, he just opened the door wider for Fang to come inside.
“Well, hi to you too, Christopher,” Fang shrugged past him, trying to leave his grumpy suspicions at the door. Guess this was going to be another round of bitching. Ugh, Fang was too sober for this. “Well, I'm here. What do you want now? Still getting my ass in trouble for being here. Practically had to double my hours tomorrow, dickhead. Thanks.”
Chris shut the door firmly and grabbed Fang by the back of his shirt. “Hey…” He let go as Fang turned around and looked at him with a curious expression. “I was serious. What I said before. I'm sorry.”
I hate the silent reminders of nothin' but heartache
Who's to decide what is right when your choice was cathartic?
Fang sighed, rolling his head to the side. Not what he wanted. “Okay.” Fang shrugged, not sure what else Chris wanted from this. Waste of time. “We're both kinda assholes. So long as you get that, it's fine, Chris. It’s fucked up we both ended up here. Otherwise…” Fang sighed, tipping his head back around to look at Chris. Otherwise, neither of them would even be saying these things to each other.
Chris scrunched his brows slightly. “Why aren't you pissed off? You chewed my fucking ass apart…”
Fang smirked, bumping his eyebrows, “Fuck, I wish you'd let me.” Fang yanked up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a little white patch on his shoulder, “Dr. Dickhead is making me try this alternative bullshit. Apparently no one likes my bad attitude. Haters.” A nicotine patch. The next step to wean him off smoking which Fang still wasn’t willing to do yet but at least they could keep his agitation dialed down. Quitting didn't come easy. But it didn't need to be the Park's problem too.
“Look,” Fang continued, rolling his sleeve back down, “I said my piece. And you said yours. Unless you wanna add to it…” Fang gave him long enough to awkwardly shuffle. “Yea, didn't think so.” Fang sighed again, “Dude, I'm tired of trying to read your mind. The more we do this, the less you say. You never used to hold back on me. I can fucking take it… You won't talk to me, you make me guess, and then I get the backhand when I get it wrong. Like I've got it all wrong now. I don't know why the fuck I'm here…I don't get it, Chris...” Fang felt the frustration build because even outside of Chris, Fang felt like he didn't belong anywhere. Where did all the shit stains of the planet belong?
I can't forget what I regret
But I accept my punishment
I can't forget our disconnect
The things that we love just hurt us in the end
Chris stepped in front of Fang, butting his chest up against him to keep him from the door. “Fang…ugh,” Chris shook it off and said it, “Fine. Fuck you.”
Fang tipped his head back, glaring down at Chris with a brow raised. “What the fuck did you say to me, asshole?” So he did want to pick a fight.
“I said: Fuck. You.” Chris pushed back. “If I want to feel happy you're alive, then I will. I'm not sorry I called you to check on you. I'm not some scheming shitbag that everyone keeps making me out to be. I won't apologize for that. Fuck you for that. I'm only sorry I took my shit out on you but you don't have to be a shithead about it either, you ungrateful ass.”
Fang felt his skin set ablaze over his body, leaning into Chris and growling. This was more his language. The Chris he could actually understand. He leaned in more, challenging Chris as he did, “Happy for what? Missed your fucking chew toy?” He briefly glanced down and smirked, feeling Chris's park his thumbs into Fang’s belt loops like a cocky son of a bitch; like he had some kind of ownership over this ordeal. Real cute. He looked back to the stormy blues, something brewing in those eyes.
These memories are transient
Could anything really have made a difference?
“No,” Chris let his shoulders relax, forcing calm and not backing down from Fang. He tipped his head slightly, searching for something in Fang's eyes. “I'm just impressed you're more resilient than I thought. And maybe pissed off that I really didn't have that much of an impact at all.”
“No impact?” Fang scoffed, snaking his arms through Chris's, gripping his shirt and tightening the space between them. What the fuck was happening? “I snorted my body weight in coke to get you the fuck out of my head. I was on my way out, dickhead. What more do you want from me?”
Could open arms change fractured minds?
Shatter forced perspectives
“Not that…” Chris muttered, leaning in closer, enough to feel hot breath on his lips. Code Break 101: hooking up with an ex rarely ever ends well. Hooking up with a repeat drug addict with wildly unpredictable behavior: big mistake only bound for bad times. But as intelligent as Chris was, fully knowing all of this, Fang just had a way of bringing out the worst of him. “So quit crying over it,” he dared to be as blunt as Fang thought he could take. “I never forced you to be a bitch about it.”
“That's the fucking nicest thing you've ever said to me,” Fang admitted with a twinge of sarcasm. Harsh as it might sound, Fang appreciated this kind of language more than anything else Chris could say. He could feel it. Feel something. He felt more genuine character from this than some mushy forced apology that didn't make him feel anything at all. It made him grin.
“Fang…” Chris's eyes dipped downward to his lips and then back up again, “How long are you going to stay here. At the park?” How could saying such brutally honest words make him smile? He really was a lunatic.
Fang shrugged, also looking downward at his lips and then back to his magnetic gaze. “Dunno. Until I can't stand it anymore, I guess.”
“You really didn't come here for me…” Chris admitted out loud.
“You didn't come here for me either,” Fang rebounded with heated breath. Fuck it with this foreplay.
Do you still slip through my fingers?
Fang tugged him in, thinking he was making the first move but Chris met him with just as much ferocity, crumbling the palpable tension between them. Fang let his shirt slide up and over his head before grabbing onto Chris's waist and jerking him close again. “What the fuck are we doing, Chris?”
Chris huffed, seeing the dark around Fang’s eyes, wondering how deep the pain went… what was in there… “I don't know,” he whispered before closing the space between their lips, diving deep into whatever lay beyond the windows of his soul. He pulled away in a stupor, leaning against Fang momentarily, catching his breath, “Fang, I can't do this if you're seeing someone else-”
Fang cut him off before he had to finish the sentence, dragging fingers through his hair. This was more like it. Couple of horny dudes doing what horny dudes did best: fuck. Forget all their problems. They were always going to have problems. Fuck that. “No prob; I left my crack whores back at my bench. It's just me and you tonight, bitch.”
Chris's chest thumped hard as he jerked Fang back to his guest bedroom (no way was he ruining his own bed). Fang only had time to hastily drop trou before Chris was back on his lips. “Fuck, Chris. No dinner first?” Fang mocked as he tugged him into his lap as they crashed onto the bed in a heap of heated testosterone.
Chris pulled off his own shirt, tossing it on the floor and stared down at Fang. “You really want me to stop now?”
“Fuck no,” Fang growled with lust as his eyes devoured the sight before him. “Goddamn, lookin’ like a fucking young Adonis. Are those abs? Fuck.” Fang's hands had to admire, running over his hips, pulling him down closer to have at that chest. Damn. Fang was almost jealous. They had his ass toned as fuck.
Chris rolled his eyes, nudging his hands off his chest. “Stop being weird,” he muttered, before getting pulled into more hot kisses. He heard Fang chuckle under his breath. He knew the whole physical affection was not Chris's wheelhouse and yet, most of the foreplay was eating each other's faces. Pretend all he wanted to, there was still a part of Chris that liked the attention but he was too cool to ever admit it. The kind of cool where it's not cool to acknowledge being cool. Hipster ass.
Chris had Fang revved up and hot for anything. He tugged at Chris's gym shorts, pulling him down by his shoulders as he stripped them off. “Ey,” Fang interjected. He barged his knee to the side of Chris's, “Move your shit out.” A negotiation of positioning. Surely, even Vanilla Ass Chris could figure out that he couldn't ride a dick if he stayed between Fang's knees. Not facing each other… Laws of anatomy. Bitch was gonna have to spread ‘em and get comfy.
“No,” Chris declined plainly, pushing Fang back by his shoulders. He crossed his arms and laid across Fang's chest with a catty grin on his lips. “This is my house. My rules. Deal with it.”
“D-deal with it?” Fang was taken aback. Yeah fucking right. He attempted to toss Chris off of him but was met with some strong resistance. “Oh, shit,” Fang laughed at his failed attempt. “You got strong. That's fucking hot. What're you gonna do to me, Big Daddy? Tell me all your secrets,” he purred.
Chris curled his lip, disturbed by the nickname. Gross. Fang chuckled at his reaction, always amused when he could gross out Chris. It didn't take much. “Stop blushing and get your dick in my ass already. Fuckin’ horn dog,” Fang continued to mock. If he couldn't win the physical battle, he'd win the mouth-off war.
Chris rolled his eyes and backed off only to reach over for the condoms and lube. Better keep it moving before Fang totally turned him off completely.
Fang took note he was still the same ol safety-first high-school-sex-ed Chris. This time, however, Fang didn't exactly blame him for the precaution. Fang had some wayward affairs that even he questioned the morning after. He would play the game, wear the dick glove - fine. But missionary? Fuck's sake. That might be Chris's thing but Fang didn't bottom for just anyone - Chris was a passable exception; he was cute and the dick was pretty nice. But fuck, they needed some fucking heat for their first impulsive fuck after their breakup. Where was the fun in this?
As Chris was leaning back across, Fang struck. He hooked his arms behind Chris's neck and shoved them both over. He laughed over Chris swearing at him countless times. “I'll play by your rules,” he assured him, working the condom down Chris's dick, giving him a good stroking. That'd really set Chris off.
“Fang, goddammit,” Chris sighed, leaning back, momentarily letting Fang have at him. His tone was annoyed but his body said otherwise. Annoyed because Fang always seemed to get what he wanted, partially ruining Chris's plans but well… how could he complain?
“It's called compromise, Chris,” Fang hotly explained into his ear. “You get something you want, I get something I want. Little bit of sacrifice just for kicks.” He kissed his lips as he started to rebute, and then his cheek before sitting up again. He started to mount up, watching Chris tense up underneath him. He smirked, enjoying the show below, “When's the last time anyone's ridden your dick, Chris?” He didn't expect an answer back. He just wanted to watch those cheeks turn a brighter shade of rose, his glare sharpen just a little more as he took him in. “C’mon, pony boy, let's fucking ride.”
Chris jerked up, landing back on his elbows, feeling Fang settle in his lap before jerking his hips forward so hard, it sent a jolt through Chris's core. And just like that, Fang had taken over. Fuck, he was good at it. Chris had everything planned out and just like every time before, Fang went and took it all over. Maybe that had fed into their breakup. Chris took back all the control then. No compromise.
“You're so fucking spoiled,” Fang laughed and then seethed, feeling Chris pump up into him, returning fire. It didn't last as Chris quietly moaned, falling back again. “Oh, fuck, you go making sounds like that again and I'm gonna fuck you into the floorboards. Fuck,” Fang groaned in return. He had the time while Chris was incapacitated to admire just how much Chris had changed. He was getting toned. Pretty boys had it so easy. Genetically gifted to look so damn fuckable. Was he making that parted-lips “fuck me” face on purpose? Specifically designed to bring men like Fang to their knees and offer their cocks like royal thrones for his ass to be seated upon. A shiver ran down Fang's spine, anticipating burying himself into his ass-
“Hey,” Fang leaned down, slowing his pace, and scooping an arm underneath Chris's back. He had a flatlined underneath him while Fang had rocked his world. Chris had checked out on him. Fang was partially reviving him with mouth to mouth, pulling him back up, “You still with me? What year is it?”
“Two thousand and shut the fuck up,” Chris growled, followed by strained panting and then shoved Fang's face back.
Fang giggled, giving Chris a break and sat back, gently stroking his throbbing dick. It was a compliment that he was so close on the edge so quick. Although, as vanilla as Chris preferred things, it really didn't take much to fry his circuits. Fang nipped at his earlobe, “You ready to trade? Or do you still think you can handle me?”
As much as it pissed Chris off to be talked to like that… couldn't handle… bullshit. Acting like he wrote the book on sex. Like Chris wasn't just as experienced just because he preferred actually knowing someone before fucking them. (Hypocrite) Like he couldn't hold his own. He was not some dainty virgin! Even so, Chris was panting harder than the one with shot lungs and zero hours in the gym. It just…caught him off guard…is all… Chris finally caved and nodded, shoving a new condom to Fang's chest. He wasn't surrendering. Just… delegating responsibilities.
Fang's grin spread, plucking the condom from Chris's hand. This war was won before it even started. As he rolled the condom down the rows of bridge piercings, Fang leaned into Chris's cheek, whispering to him, “I'll give it to you just how you like it. Compromise, Chris. You need to learn what the fuck that means.” Fang leaned down chest to chest while toying with Chris's ass. He grabbed Chris's red hot cheeks, inhaling a kiss fresh out of the oven. Fang sighed heavily, leaning his chin on Chris's collarbone, ready to dive deep into that ass but he wouldn't do that to Chris in this state. He wasn't into pain like Fang was.
“Just-” Chris huffed, flushing even more, knowing he did, and it irritated him more. “Just get going already. I'm going to die of old age if you're going to complain all damn night.”
Fang propped himself up on his elbow, grinning down at Chris. “Impatient? Awww, am I bothering you? You have a tight ass, Christopher. It's a compliment you need a little extra- prep,” Fang teased him, splitting his fingers apart, feeling his core twitch and seeing the slight wince he tried to cover up. “See, if I started fucking you now,” Fang started to push up against him, a tease at first. “You'd bitch my ear off-” And Fang couldn't resist, pushing into him. He groaned, only just keeping himself from thrusting ahead, letting one piercing at a time pop into him.
“Fuck-” Chris growled, trying to force it from becoming a whimper. He masked the discomfort as best he could. He wasn't going to keep making Fang right. Fuck him! How many piercings did he have again!? They just kept coming! “Stop backing out, goddammit,” Chris snapped, turning to the side to brace better and checking Fang's chin with his shoulder while he was at it.
“Biiiitch,” Fang declared as the snappy orders already started coming in. “You want my fingers in your ass instead, don't you?”
“No,” Chris spat almost too quickly. “I want you to hurry up already. Fuck-” He panted, catching his breath from bracing too long.
“Oh, Chris,” Fang chuckled with slight pity for a guy trying so hard to be tougher than he really was. The world be damned to hellfire and brimstone before Christopher Burton showed his weaknesses. It made Fang smirk before he pulled out of Chris, making him growl. “Come here, slut. You want this dick so bad, come and get some.” Fang wrapped Chris by his thighs and jerked him to the edge of the bed where Fang could stand. He dipped down before Chris could spit another insult and shoved that dick right back in with a muted slap of hips to ass. Bless lube and all of its fucking bliss. Only thing he'd ever miss from a pussy was the free lube.
Chris about saw stars, inhaling sharply and gripping the sheets, and biting back any kind of yelp but growled instead. All of those stupid piercings all at once! Chris winced, tightening up as he glared up at Fang over the top of him with that lusty appetite for Chris's body. Aw, shit- he felt that flutter in his chest and the drop of his stomach. He was really here. Like nothing happened. This was really happening. Again. It didn't have to. Chris made it happen. What were they doing?
Fang expected the venom and spite - he did say he wasn't quite ready but eh, if he wanted dick, Fang complied. But that's not exactly what followed. He didn't expect to get an arm around his neck and pulled down closer, almost in a sort of hug. He slowed his roll, almost stopping completely, “You good?” Fang genuinely asked, his sobriety (kind of) providing more clarity to those around him more than ever before. Who's to say he may not have even thought to ask before.
“Yea,” Chris responded quietly. “Don't stop,” he whispered but didn't let go.
Chris sounded weird to Fang. The temperature in the room felt like it dropped. For once, Fang found himself without words to throw back in his face. Maybe he had been too much of a jackass to Chris now and before. Maybe he had genuinely cared… Maybe in some fucked up way, they were both apologizing to each other but on the other hand, maybe this was just all that they knew they could do for the other too. What more was there to them? What was left? What would there be? What was the point? Was this reconnect or obvious disconnect? Fang asked once before already but the thought came right back: what the fuck were they doing?
Fang pressed his lips to Chris's neck, desperately wanting to take a chomp but knowing that was against the rules. He growled with frustration, pumping harder, knowing he'd have to pull out soon too. Another fucking rule (literally). “I wanna cum in your ass so bad,” he rasped, gripping his shoulders harder to pull him against his thrusts to get deeper into him.
Chris cracked his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. His first response was, of course, to say hell no. For multiple reasons. He squeezed his eyes shut again, wincing but not all because of the thrusts. His unwillingness towards Fang was what drove them apart - what drove Chris apart. “Put another condom on,” he finally breathed quietly. He didn't know what drove him to give him the opportunity. Stupid -sigh- goddamn compromise. Was he prepared for what could follow? The mockery. The expectations. Well…that was only if there would be another time. Another throb in his chest and twinge that tickled his core. What was he thinking?
Fang slowed down immediately, shifting up a bit, “I have to double bag to- wait, you mean it? I can- cuz…” Without getting a single hint of refusal back, Fang was all too eager, pulling back and reaching for another dick wrap. This had never been an option before! Maybe Chris had a promiscuous rebound in between that opened his mind. Doubtful but whatever the fuck- Fang was taking the opportunity no matter the feeling that he was wearing a hazmat suit to do it.
Didn't take him long to get buried into Chris again and feeling hot. He could feel the burn in his lungs as he fought back the urge to hack up his lungs. Not hot. His heart banged against his ribs, thrusting harder, feeling his sweat mix with the sweat on Chris's neck. “Oh, fuck-” Fang growled, rolling his body into Chris, hunching his back. “Fill- that- ass- up-” he panted, hitting each throb and wave of euphoria. Christ, how he forced his imagination to pretend he wasn't separated by two annoying layers of latex. Fang put up a resistance to a lot of things but the male urge to claim an ass was not one of them. Oh, fuck, goddamn euphoria. No, not the first time he had jizzed his brains out in Chris. But this time was welcomed and maybe he wouldn't get beat with a shoe. This was all different. This was all so much deeper. This was compromise.
Fang laid his forehead to Chris's collarbone, panting slow and shallow. He had to let a couple coughs go before a fit would take him. “Oh, shit, I forgot to get you off,” Fang panted as he straightened up, pulling out of Chris's arms. Back to work.
Chris shook his head, simply reaching up and taking Fang's cheek and coaxing him back down for more hot kisses in between both of them catching their breath. Fang caught a glance between them and realized his services were not needed. “You...sneaky bitch,” he muttered with a light chuckle. He should have known from the way his eyes got a distant haze to them, how quiet he got, how hot he felt, his shaky breath in his ear, how those brows made a slight crease, his parted lips… “Fuck, you're so fucking hot,” Fang whispered on his lips.
But what happened after the distractions stopped? That's all this had been, right? One bigger distraction from each other. Fang figured he'd be the one to ask first. Chris wouldn't be the one to just spit shit out there without spending a month to overthink it. So Fang just asked point blank while the room was silent again, “Am I your boyfriend again?”
Chris's eyes trailed down Fang's body, taking inventory of his condition; he looked rough, lost a lot of weight, even in the dim light coming into the dark room, he saw all the new scars on his arms, how dark his eyes were, he looked like he hadn't slept in days… it was more than just his body that took the abuse… Chris shrugged a shoulder, "I don't think so."
"Yea, I didn't think so either," Fang shrugged too, failing the eye test evidently. "But thanks for the fucking," he grinned, leaning down to take a chomp at his collarbone, knowing full well he'd get in trouble for it.
Chris grabbed a firm hold of Fang’s nipple piercing, his voice flat and unamused, "Which piercing do you want me to start with?" Chris pulled harder.
"Oooohhh, you're going to have to give me a little longer before you try turning me on again," he mocked. Fang held up his hands in retreat, sliding away from the bed and freeing them both in surrender. Finally, he could get a few good coughs out that he had been holding in. He waved off Chris's disdainful look, “I'm not sick, asshole. Well, sick in the head but there's no cure for that. I told you I fucked up my lungs.” He continued to ride out a smaller coughing fit while peeling the condoms off and picking up his clothes.
Chris was skeptical but his breathing did sound shittier than usual. Probably from all the smoking. Dumbass. Chris joined him in picking up clothes, tossing condoms, wow, Fang actually threw something in the trash… and at least putting his underwear back on. When he noticed Fang put his pants back on, Chris raised a brow. "You can stay the night. I don't care-"
Fang waved him off, "Nah, I don't think that's a great idea. I'll just get in more trouble- not in my terms and conditions with my parole officer that I had to sign to get a pass tonight. I've got a curfew. And besides…” He straightened up, buttoning his pants, taking in the sight of Chris’s body one more time. Nice. “Pretty sure what we've got here is a little fucked up right now, right? Are we even friends with benefits? Or just benefits? This kind of shit never works out." Fang headed through to the main room, plopping on the couch to pull his shoes back on.
Chris followed him through, feeling like the stupid one. "Nothing's changed. Not really,” Fang explained plainly. “You still hate who I am, I still hate who you are. I'm still the person you don't know how to handle. I'm still just as fucked up and broken. You're still not willing to let me close to you- although, cumming in your ass was a nice surprise. Thanks for that. But I can't just be your trashcan for your fucking shit. I mean…I want to be, don't get me wrong. Love that hate fuck narrative. It's hot as fuck. Mmm!” He shivered with a grin that faded quickly, “But I have to stop getting into the same fucking patterns that keep torturing my ass. I'm still not proud of the person I am or the person I was. But, fuck," Fang sighed, taking a deep breath, trying to keep from getting angry all over again. "I'm doing this thing where I've been trying my fucking hardest…at something, anything. And I'm not fucking great at it, no surprise. But I'm not ready to try this…" Fang looked back to Chris. "Are you?"
Chris lowered his eyes, staring at Fang's arms. It wasn't enough to say sorry. It wasn't enough to fuck around. He had broken any trust between them. Was there any to begin with? What the fuck could Chris do? He painfully remembered how he had started parroting how miserable and angry Fang felt. He was this toxic ooze taking over his body, choking out whoever he thought he was. Or so he had thought it had been Fang but…what if it wasn't and he really was just the scapegoat…? What if they could be better…
The silence was enough for Fang. He was too much for Chris. Fang couldn't watch one more person get dragged down to the pits where he was shackled by his own inhibitions. Chris couldn't survive there. He didn't have the willpower to block out every thought picking him to pieces. Even now, Fang felt so insignificant to someone like Chris. To say he didn't matter wasn't exactly true, Fang knew that. But it mattered more now that he wasn't a part of Chris's life.
"I-" Chris stopped short, looking around and realizing he had been left alone. Fang was gone. "You fucking asshole," he whispered, making his way to the front door. He was gone. He bailed. He had done the exact same thing Chris had done when he broke up with Fang. Disappeared. Chris shut the door again and dropped onto his couch, staring off into space. Was he really going to say he did want to try? That's what he thought he was going to say. But now the weight of doubt buried him into the cushions. He lifted his arm, looking at his untouched skin, wondering what the appeal even was to do that to one's body. It wasn't like Fang did it to die. Clearly. So, why then? "Fuck," Chris sobbed, rolling over onto his back, pulling his arms apart. As if grazing a nail on his arm was any way shape or form close to the damage Fang put onto himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fang was right. Chris couldn't handle someone like Fang. He was too fucked up, too unpredictable, too violent, too much. And Chris…was too eager to follow suit despite every rational fiber in his being. Why? Why the fuck did he want his goddamn attention every fucking time? From the very first time meeting in some hotel by chance, mad at the world, Chris dragged Fang to him. And he had continued to do such every fucking time. Dragged him close until he was too close then shoved him away. Every fucking time. Why? He didn't used to be like this. Did he want him or just the thought of him?
"I don't fucking know," Chris cried, pushing the palms of his hands over his eyes. It was only this hard because he was here, right? Once Kate ditched him, everything got easier to move on. Once he knew he couldn't get a hold of Fang, Chris told himself he felt better and started onward again. And in the span of a few days, everything derailed, crashing to pieces, leaving his heart in a state of shock while all logical rationale was trying to pull him from the wreckage.
I hate the silent reminders of nothin' but heartache
Who's to decide what is right when your choice was cathartic?
I can't forget what I regret
But I accept my punishment
I can't forget our disconnect
The things that we love just hurt us in the end
Lyrics © Dante by Northlane
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