Posted in Headcanon, Movie

Good Intentions

He’s tired. He really is. It has been a very taxing three weeks, emotionally and physically. And he’s in desperate need to breakdown.

“Come on, you should know better,” his twin brother would say. “He had a wife, Tommy! If, God forbid, you or him do anything more, you’re hurting more than just two people. Even you can’t be that selfish.”

And he would’ve try to open his mouth, try to defend himself or maybe telling Douglas that all he want is a place to breakdown.

But he knows Douglas would cut him off before he can even start, with a pat in the shoulder and say, in that sympathetic “I know you can be better than this” voice of his, “I love you, man. You’re my brother and I just want the best for you. But that douchey conservative ass is not it, okay?”

He would’ve shut his mouth and give his fake smile then, like he always do, and let Douglas leave. He wouldn’t tell anyone that maybe, maybe he doesn’t want the best. Maybe he couldn’t care less about what’s wrong and what’s right. Maybe all he want is someone, anyone, to be there to hold him when he fall to pieces.

And Sean? Oh he maybe an asshole, but Sean was there. Sean was there to keep him together with his embrace and cajoled him with his soft touches.

Sean was there, and it was the only thing that matters to him right now. Because no one else ever was.

“Thomas?”

He looks up, then, and look at the blurry blond figure in front of him. His eyes can’t even focus after so many glasses of vodka and tequila, and god knows what else. But he’ll recognize that form anywhere.

“Hey.”

Everyone else meant well, he knows they do. They meant the best when they tell him to do the right thing and stay away. They meant well when they left him on his own devices because he should have been mature enough to be strong.

But the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and all they did was pushing him closer to the brink.

As he pulls Sean in for one rushed kiss, he knows for sure that he’s in the highway to hell.

He just couldn’t care less. Not anymore.

 

 

 

À la mort,

Prompt: Fall Out Boy’s Hum Hallelujah.
“The road outside my house is paved with good intentions.”

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Author:

An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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