smokedsalt
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“He’s dead because of me.”
His eyes slit open, then, hard and glittering. Kendall pushes up on one elbow, Stewy's hand automatically going to curve over the openness of his neck. Kendall bends, presses a kiss to Stewy's forehead, his temple, the bridge of his nose. Opens his mouth to Stewy like it’s not filled with blood and teeth that he never asked for.
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"I’m not wallowing.”
"I’d be a lot more convinced by that if you got up and showered, had some water, put on clean clothes.”
Kendall just keeps staring, gives a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. Stewy stands and looks at him for long moments; eyes sweeping over the dark shadows under Kendall’s eyes, the fact that he looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a goddamn month, the rough-bitten skin of his lips.
“Okay, suit yourself,” he says, and yanks the comforter off Kendall in one sweeping motion.
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Napoleon needs to prove a point.
Bookmarked by smokedsalt
25 Jun 2019