chapter 16

Chapter 16

The car swirved scraping the incline oh the driveway before parking in a slowed stop, the dim headlights shot his reflection apon the plane garage that had hid a mess inside. He'd almost forgot Ronin who sat in the seat next to him, a silent figure, a lone figure, masked in the belief that what they had done would last. His eyes flashed at the clock that had began to rush him during his hands in the stiring wheel, what he had suppressed began to dig out of his stuffed mouth.

"Ronin, how much did you tell her" the words flew out reflecting off of the blurry reflection on the window shield, his hands began to shake like the words that slipped out of their designated slots in his mind, he knew each one, for he had heard them before, her lived them.

And yet he was still surprised when he'd read them, let alone say them to which his eyes locked on Ronin who had only now began to answer his question, "Well, I don't know" he said gripped kg the jeans with her copied from his father.

For even as ronin's father, that word never held its own, for it has run out of room to stay, only carried when it was needed, and only used when it was desperate.

As now he could see as it slipped away, possibly hiding from the storm he couldn't keep in, gripping the striring wheele everything began to come back, his eyes shot between the window and Ronin, for the thought of it coming to words was unfathomable, and yet he could only grow in envey when Ronin would get ahead, he'd excell, eventually leaving him behind, hed invisioned how it would happen, and yet never once thought of following Ronin. How could he, was he to far behind, his heart began to beat with the anticipation of all her just thought until it formed in the raging cycle he'd dressed the storm he had held up,

"Damnit Ronin what did you fucking say"

It came out in a breathy grunt on the bridge of a cough as if the smoke it brought up had punished him, for the cyclone had only just begun, Ronins hesitant eyes and nervous figure was printed with what he wanted to say, but how to say it to the man he never really knew, the man he'd almost fear as now came the hail, the wind, the thunder...the past.

why do you think she's gone, when you say too much, that shit catches up to you" he'd listen to his own voice shake when the sentence would form, he couldn't look at Ronin before taking a breath he'd need for what he's say next.

shit man, she's gone Ronin just forget it, forget her words, forget her voice, her fucking voice, she's not coming home, she's gone.

Hitting the ceiling of the car with his voice as the last syllables slide off his toung, only a mockery of the war in his head, it wasn't the guns, the Cannon's, nor the aspects he'd skimmed past, it was her voice.

That he knew Ronin could hear, it would fill any room with a new color, a new sent, only a warning of what it would produce, covered in pain and sounded through a stress shed build up, the new colors, shed mix into a painting full of everything shed lay in them, only held in by the walls of the room.

Ronin met his fathers eyes, the eyes that saved that painting, rooted it within him, as if he were afraid to let it go, afraid to loose what he was sure hurt him, for without that he too could be swallowed in the flooded room with her.

Ronin tried to juggle a word or two to explain it before interrupted by his fathers fast mouth, as if it had prepared what came next, for day, weeks, years, years on end.

And with a grind of his teeth hed let it out.

"when she'd come home from the job she barely held, and then blame us when she lost it, you remember now don't you, dont you fucking remember"

His legs began to tremble as if the car had began to shake as well, he tried to catch his breath that faded, laying his head in the wheele, holding on like hed fall back into the very words he said.

Those same words had cut his firm eyes, for they bled the consequences of such an act, rolling down his hidden faces afraid Ronin would see, he would see him crumble, crumble like he'd done before.

if she were here now she'd laugh at us, do you really wanna bring that back in our lives, I thought we could get over it Ronin, damnit how can you just tell someone about that" he said slowly, softly, defeatedly. For he knew Ronin would agree.

It was only the question if he could let himself.

Ronin could only grow tenser, the opposite of him, he was growing in an emotion scaffolded in a painful scream they could only share, as he had yet to see, It was only Ronin whoes eyes would flip the piece, a different perspective.

His shivering voice to carry it.

"what about when we-we'd come home to have dinner with her, when she'd pack your fucking lunch before work, maybe her voice was shot but what about her smile dad, that damn smile that would greet me a-amd hold me when I'd cry, like this damnit"

His fathers eyes widened as ronin went back past what he'd let himself do, past the barriers, past the pain, past the family that broke.

He'd landed on the moments he had somehow forgotten, hidden from himself as if he couldn't believe they'd happen, let alone pretend he did when she would change, when every word that left he mouth shifted, twisted between her toung, and spat apon them.

She's gone dad, God she's fucking gone" Ronins voice cracked for it was as if he'd said more than his father, between the walls of his head.

For it was then Ronin apologized, he couldn't stand his ground, beaten by it. "I-i don't know why I told her, I just, it just, came out, I'm sorry, I don't know how to fix it, I swear I won't say more-"

"How did it feel" he looked away, he couldn't leave Ronin in the last note, for even he could envy the ability to put his thoughts into somthing more than a war within himself. If he couldn't do it himself, he would thrive off how Ronin could.

"Yes"

His voice sounded, quietly, and yet rough filled with a scratching that stung his father's ears as he turned locking in ronin's tear felt eyes that copied his, and yet the glass that lay between them acted as a mirror, dividing and yet reflecting eattchother.

All this he could see in his father, even separated they-connected.

And with a quick struggle to open the door, slipping out of the car he'd cut the rope that connected them, for his side was ingrown, and infected with what he'd thought he believed, or what he feared would happen to him if he hadn't believed