Quoted By:
Because he is moping. The terrain is rougher than you thought, so it's not like you're up close to him— all you can see from here is light, and glancing his way leaves spots in your eyes. You're not <span class="mu-i">witnessing</span> him mope, is what you mean. It's just that there's a damp, mildewy scent on the breeze, over and above the char-smell, and the ocean is dull and waveless, and you've seen him mope, alright? You're going off of more gut than anything. And you're mainly hoping that it <span class="mu-i">is</span> gut, that Ellery spawned this place out of his sick head and now he's got himself all over it, and that you're not just projecting horribly.
Again, ignoring would be the winning strategy! Fuck him. If he wants to rot in his charcoal dump, why not? If he wants to mope like a child, the bitch with the magic pussy can give him kissies all she wants. But you're here, scrambling up this stupid crumbling hill, nearly stabbing your hand on nails, and clearly you're past the point of strategy. You're onto something like Plan F now, or G, and your best chance is to meet Ellery and slap the shit out of him. Maybe kick him in the teeth. And then move on.
Which you're working on, alright? You're nearly there. Up this close, you can see even <span class="mu-i">less</span> than you could down below: the light's thick as a wall and nearly as dense, and you find yourself surprised to move through it easily. That is, until you glance down and spot the darkness skinning around you— absorbing the light? Eating it? Swallowing it whole? Man, you're so fucking awesome. If only you could keep this nightmare bullshit around forever.
You'll settle for just now, though, because you'll take any high-ground you can get vs. Ellery. He's here. You guess you're at the top of the hill, but it just looks white around you, and he looks normal. Not 38. Maybe like he combed his hair the wrong way.
You feel disgust. He <span class="mu-i">is</span> moping, for the record, with his chin in his arms and his arms on his knees. He's wearing some stupid patterned shirt, maybe from the girlfriend. You didn't know him to wear patterns.
And he's glowing. You guess that's not normal, actually, but for Ellery is it that far off? The light's coming from the pores in his skin and the holes of his face. From around his eyeballs, and everything, which completely washes out the eyes. Can't even see them.
"Is that fucking healthy?" you say.
Your piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend turns his head up at you. "You can go, Maddie. It's okay."
"<span class="mu-i">Pardon</span> me?"
"It's not like back then. I know you're not real." Despite the eye contact, he's managing to mumble. "I'm not far enough gone this time. Feels like I really should be. At least I was having a good time, you know, having fun, having..."
"I'm real," you say. "Dumbass."
"You've got no blood, Maddie. No strings, no... it's fine. It's not your fault. I really fucked this one up, Maddie." He's just droning. "Really bad. I'm a fuckup, Maddie, always have been, and I..."
(2/3)
