#overwrought metaphors

It was inevitable, really. Two inexorable forces tend to be like that, the stubborn bastards. Collision courses without the option for aversion, because both of you are so wonderfully oblivious to the catastrophic event up ahead. Don’t bother tooting your horn, because I’m far too busy listening to Cake at full volume to ever hear you, concerned onlooker. I’m afraid this vehicle is going to be a write off. 

Chassis on chassis, my claws digging into your bodywork, until we’re just a mess of fused metal and burning rubber. It doesn’t matter who hit who (I hit you), because we’re just as stuck on one another as each other. You’re not getting away, and I can’t get free, either. A ball of wreckage hurtling down the tarmac, both courses changed irrevocably. 

I couldn’t be happier to be wreckage with you. 

Levitation, then.

The feeling that she was lighter than air, that, being with him, she could hover a good few inches off the floor, and settle there, with nothing holding her but the strength of his presence. Quite the thing, even if she did say so herself. 

But that’s not all levitation is. It’s not just the euphoria, the elation. It’s not just feeling like your entire being is allowed to transcend the laws of physics. Not just, no. 

Because there’s a consequence with unmooring yourself from the ground. Cast away the things that keep you grounded, and you’re in a very real danger of floating away. There’s nothing holding you back, nothing keeping you… here. 

That’s why she needed him. He was her ballast. Kept her from floating into the stratosphere, where it gets hard to breathe. She’d fly high, but he’d keep her safe.