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sing the body electric

2:01 AM. There is a hollow ache in the back of Thorne's throat. He keeps rolling his tongue over the smooth curve of his teeth, searching for something missing, like a tooth that had been pulled in the quiet chaos, in the aftermath of the end.

The night sky is brittle and foaming with clouds. The distant, acrid smell of asphalt beneath rain greeting him where he sits on the top of a concrete car garage, found somehow in his restless abandon from the apartments as soon as the other two had escaped.

Finally, as if coming up for air, Thorne exhales and looks down at the glowing phone in his lap.

A pause. A stutter in the silence.

sing the body electric

Thorne cocks his foot up against the concrete edge of the building and lays his arms over it, considering the text messages and his own reply. His eyes half lid. And he pauses, and then replies -



He glances up as the scent of rain came closer. The humidity sticks to his skin, crowding against the small of his back. It makes him restless, edged with energy that he can't handle.



Another pause.

Thorne can't help laughing. The sound spindles from his throat as soon as the first raindrop hits his nose and he sighs, swinging himself up and back onto the ground, walking under cover as he responds.



He shakes his head of rain and wipes off the screen of his phone. The car garage is empty. The scene of a would-be murder in a movie. But here, now, it is just him. He steps down onto the street, ducking beneath shelter to send a second response.

sing the body electric

Eventually, Thorne appears in Aleksy's house. The door unlocks, the shoes are upended, and he knocks on the bedroom door before sliding his fingers against it and pushing.

Thorne would usually stop and give Laika her dues, but tonight is different. There is a slow, disjointed grace with which he walks, as though his body is acting beneath the commands of a ghost. Thorne comes awake to the sound of Aleksy telling him to come and sit down. His eyes are drawn to the redhead and his mouth curves into the semblance of a smile but no more.

"I'm not jail-breaking you tonight," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. "There's a difference." He tilts his head. "And I'm not sure how much help I'll be for that, but..." He trails off. And he comes as he's called. He settles next to Aleksy on the bed, and despite everything it feels strange. It feels right.

He lets Aleksy arrange himself around Thorne like he wants, shifting so that he's comfortable as well, his finger tracing the pattern of a lily on the others skin, above the sling and stutters, and stops.

He wonders if he should apologize for crashing Aleksy's place like this at 2AM when really, he should have been crashing a bar. But the words don't come.

Right now, he lets Aleksy lead.

Thorne allows Aleksy to manuever himself the way he likes, content to simply close his eyes and wait. His eyes flicker open again at the lilt of his voice though, a deep hum of sound echoing in his throat. He tilts his head, jaw brushing the tresses of the others hair and he wonders what to say.

"It's violence," Thorne says at length, quietly because he has not talked about these pieces and their progression with many people. "Every time I add to it, there's another layer of brutality in the detail beneath the beauty and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's me. " The pieces are hungry and swallow his attention when he looks their way. There's a harmony in it all, but it doesn't sing any sort of song or love or peace.

"Well if he's someone you like, I'm sure he's good," Thorne says softly in response and closes his eyes. "Maybe I'll meet him one day." The confession takes longer to process and Thornes breath is shaky for a long moment. He lifts one arm up and runs his fingers against the edges of Aleksy's hair.

"I was scared at first that you hated me," he admits quietly, remembering their first meeting. "Because I think I liked you the moment I met you."