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Author Topic: Things Fall Apart  (Read 1002 times)

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Offline nephero

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #40 on: August 04, 2017, 02:54:36 PM »
“Yes, I murdered a phone! And I'd do it again! And a third time!” Wil proclaimed, far too proudly for any grown adult to do so. They shifted a bit, folding their arms over Glover's chest and pillowing their head there. They didn't even protest the loss of their hat (again), not when Glover's fingers disappeared into long green hair, pushing against their scalp just so.

Aw, yeah, that was the ticket. Wil's eyelids drooped and they let out a low hum, arms extricatin ot from beneath them just enough to move their fingers in slow circles against his collarbone.

All the stress of the day just melted away, all the worries and the frustrations and the fury, all of it gone as Wil took a deep breath and caught only Glover in it-- residual tobacco and noodles and all. It was hilarious; on anyone else the stench would have been awful, and the first few months of working together that had been Wil's primary complaint about their newfound “partner” (they had used air quotes around that word a lot, before). But now, now it was as comforting as anything-- and Wil didn't bother trying to be subtle about burying their nose in his shirt and just breathing in.

Somewhere, there was a philosophical quandary; were they this clingy because Glover scared the crap out of them, or did Glover's “disappearance” scare the crap out of them because they were just that clingy. A mystery that honestly never needed solving, not when Glover pressed his lips to theirs, and all was right with the world. Well. Sort’ve.

“Mm,” they hummed an affirmative, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth and then that prickly chin. Wil shifted just enough that they could look down at him without crushing his sternum, full lips pursed into a tight line before relaxing again.

“And you? You sure you’re okay?”

Offline Lion

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #41 on: August 05, 2017, 12:56:43 AM »
Glover's usual routine involved rolling out of bed, naked head to toe, and standing in a cold shower for five minutes before finding the same shirt he was wearing the day before and throwing that on. The cold would wake him up. And the clothes would...well, they didn't smell that bad. But after the first few months of working with Wil, it became apparent that taking personal hygiene slightly more serious than before was a good thing.

Glover hummed, a gentle sound to Lambo. But given to anyone else would have been curbed at the edge with a growl. If he didn't know you or liked you, all you got was a grunt. Everything else was just a waste of breath.

That gentle nuzzle made his heart thumb loudly and wildly in his chest and Wil's presence made that notion slide on home that the need to worry about Sandborne was rather unnecessary. Not now anyway. How often had they found themselves in this very apartment, on this same couch, and in this same position before?

It was amusingly routine. Sometimes there were cartons of take out on the table, others there were bottles of booze and crushed old cartons of cigarettes while they griped on about what a hard-ass the Chief was. Yet, there they were again, brought here by Glover's own misery and dragging Wil down with him.

He didn't want that. Glover just wanted them to bury their face into his neck again, to stop talking and fall asleep. Or to kiss and quietly rut. Anything that would avoid Glover having to tell Wil the truth.

Before he could stop himself, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against theirs again. A sharp jolt shot through his chest. "I'm much better now," he murmured. It wasn't exactly a lie, and it certainly was the truth, in some form or another. "I meant it though...  When I said I was sorry. I don't know what I was thinking.  I should have called you back. You were worried and I ignored it...and...I don't know."

Glover played it off in a shrug. "Let's go out to the fire escape, huh? I could use a smoke."

Offline nephero

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #42 on: August 05, 2017, 09:32:48 PM »
“I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. I'm still pretty pissed. But,” and there was a very big ‘but’, Wil’s fingers tapping gently against Glover's chest, “But I'll get over it. You're here, you're in one piece, and you even won a bum fight. Not bad for an afternoon.”

Wil's lips curved into a little smirk, and they leaned in to plant another kiss to Glover's forehead before finally sliding off him and off the couch.

“You have a pack?” Wil asked, already off and rummaging through their own coat pockets. They weren't nearly so enamored with cigarettes as Glover was-- no one was as enamored with cigarettes as Glover was, it was a physical impossibility-- but the whole practice had grown on them. Like Glover's personal brand of being, a lot of things that had once been outrageously unsavory to them now held a deep fondness all their own.

Besides, sitting out on the fire escape and venting smoke into the city air? More than a little therapeutic after a day of freaking the hell out.

Wil retrieved their own box, still mostly full. The last time they'd needed a smoke was when Glover had mistakenly mixed up reserved dates on the calendar, and had stumbled in with some… chick from some… BAR on his arm, where Wil had been waiting for nearly over an hour.

That… had been a very chaotic night. The cigarettes well earned.

And it was not something that Wil cared to linger on for much longer than was absolutely necessary. It was the quickest path to the shortest fuse, and considering how the rest of the day had gone, Wil figured they could both use a breather from excessive displays of negative emotion. Glover probably most of all.

Because somewhere, deep in their soul, Wil knew they weren’t getting the half of it. It was a vague feeling, nothing they genuinely could pinpoint in any fashion, but a feeling nonetheless. Something had to have gone down in Sandborne’s office. Or maybe it was just the case itself. Mages being carted around like slabs of meat, it would be understandable. And it would give some measure of sense to Glover’s whole ‘oh hey let me just go slap the guy in the face’ tactic.

Wil opened the window that led out onto the fire escape, and slipped out onto the wrought metal meshing. The city, though anything but quiet, had a kind of liminal feel to it-- like the fire escape existed on a separate plane entirely separate from Edanith as a whole. Like it was theirs, their own private little bubble.

Wil loved it. Even when they were shaking in fury, even on the worst nights, and the best days, Wil loved it.

Shielding their cigarette with one hand and lighting with the other, Wil sucked in to get the flame to catch, sighing out through their nose. A plume of blue-white rose before them, and they considered the smoke for a moment before turning towards Glover, dark eyes heavy lidded.

To think, a few years back, and Wil had hated him. Loathed to the point of frothing venom hated him. Nothing about the man seemed above criticism, and criticise Wil did-- his hair, his manner, his gruffness, his idiot grin, the way he smelled like a smokestack and looked like one too. If one went back in time and told Wil that they’d end up loving this idiot, well. Wil probably would have laughed themselves sick.

But here they were. Doing just that. And therein was the crux of it-- the furious calls, the 400+ messages, the fact that Wil had made a complete ass of themselves in front of Sevrin and his caretaker. Somewhere, Wil wondered if any of this could be considered remotely sane. Probably not, but Wil was more than willing to give that train of thought a nice set of concrete shoes.

“Here,” they said, quiet against the backdrop of distant traffic and beeping crosswalks, holding out their lighter and sparking a little flame to life for Glover to utilize.

Offline Lion

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #43 on: August 06, 2017, 12:50:56 AM »
Did he have a pack?  Did Wil even know who they were talking to?

Glover didn't encourage that question with a response. All he could was snort. Because of course he had a pack. He had stashes and stashes of them in his refrigerator, cleverly taped underneath the deli meat drawer where that old bologna was growing fur, right next to the gun. Even more packs in the bathroom, and one in the key bowl next to the main counter. Nothing fancy, he just wanted to be prepared to any possible moment he would be without a smoke.

Glover swore off quitting some time ago. Almost killed a bum because he wanted the smoke he was lighting. Snatched that thing right out of his mouth and took a long drag, sitting on the poor guy until that itch was properly scratched. That was short-lived and Glover was sure to call for a medic for the poor guy.

"Atrades, but if not, I'll make do with whatever you got," Glover commented idly, sliding off the sofa and scrambling for balance. Thank the coffee table for that. He thought of bringing the hat, and rather thought it was best he left it on the table lest he get the Twitches and drop that wonderful thing down the fire escape. Again. For the 28th time.

Glover climbed out onto that fire escape, loving the view of the city. It wasn't a pent house apartment. And unless Glover made some significant promotion, this was the view he was going to have for a while. It wasn't bad. Glover didn't really care about the quality of the view, just that it was there. And for a moment he could watch the portrait of a life he could gently feel separate from.

"Thanks." The word came quiet and Glover's expression relaxed. His Hippo lighter was back in his jacket. He didn't need it. Everything that was Wil's was better. A spark came to life, and so did the end of that smoke. He took a long drag, let the smoke fill him, and letting that gaseous euphoria make it's course, and he made small O shapes with his mouth. 

"Sandborne's a fucking prick," he closed his eyes, and flicking out the small bundle of ash that began to form. Practice before he went about of keeping as much as on the end of the smoke for as long as possible then dashing it out all out once in one giant clump. "I wanted answers. So I went to go get them myself."

Aside form stating the obvious, Glover knew he didn't want to be talking about the case. He had enough on his mind as it was. "Wil, why did you want to be a cop? What made you choose this?" Because that option had been afforded to them. A mage was only as useful as their magic, placed wherever they would have their highest value. Sure maybe he could have been some kind of coroner or some shit. His parents didn't exactly like him being a cop. It was lowly. No Daniels was a cop. Ever.

Maybe some rules were meant to be broken.

Offline nephero

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #44 on: August 06, 2017, 11:34:16 PM »
As soon as the words were out of their mouth, Wil knew they were a mistake. Because of course Glover had a pack. When didn't Glover have a pack? Well, Wil, that's what you get for consideration.

Not that they were actually bitter, at all, just terribly amused.

But oh, how Wil loved evenings like these. They didn't always need to smoke with him, but they loved sitting out on the fire escape with Glover, beyond established realms like “home” and “work” and every other place that required action of them. The fire escape was, perhaps too fittingly, an escape. A place outside of a place that only required them to be in it. It didn't matter their jobs or their birth or their personal magical capabilities; all that mattered was them, Wil and Glover, just that and nothing else.

Wil liked the idea of ‘just them,’ perhaps a bit selfishly, but still. It was a nice thought. One that never failed to bring a smile to their face. Like right just then, even as they brought in pale smoke, taking in an even deeper breath before letting it all out in one sighing woosh.

Not for the first time, Wil was sure they weren't getting the full story. It happened, now and again, here and there, and it never seemed important enough to press. Like Glover's family, or if his silence on the matter was any indication, the family he didn't want to have. But then there was Sevrin, and Glover had just doted upon him, so clearly family wasn't all bad?

It was the same as right then, and about the Sandborne case. Some perfectly plausible but almost miserably too casual explanation and that was that. And like always, Wil didn't press. They simply let Glover move on, and they moved on right with him.

Why did they choose to become a cop?

Now there was a question. Wil chewed their lip in thought, trying to figure out how to even begin putting it into words.

“It just… felt right. Like you know when you see something, and all you can do is stand there in awe and go, ‘that, I want that!’ That as me with anything to do with law enforcement. Detective noir, cozy mysteries, frontier justice kinda films… I just. Felt it. Like it was everything I was meant to be a part of.”

They looked to the side, into Glover's rosy eyes, and awe. The green haired detective took another long drag, watching the burning paper flare before turning to ash, the heat from the end getting closer and closer to their fingers.

They'd spend the next several days catching whiffs of tobacco in their hair and on their skin, of course. But that never stopped them from smiling every time it happened.

“If you could be anything, do anything, have anything… what would it be? Would you still be a cop?”

Offline Lion

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #45 on: August 07, 2017, 01:41:56 AM »
Glover could understand that. Those sentiments were not overly complicated. When it boiled down to it, that was the truth wasn't it. Following your instincts, your heart would ultimately lead you to what was right. Glover hadn't expected much exposition, and it made his stomach flip at how Wil's explanation was so remarkably easy.

Another long drag and he leaned forward against the railing, glancing away from the glowing lights of Tynova. Somewhere out there, miles away, Sandborne was still free, buying his way out, silencing those that protested him. Still enjoying life as a free man ought to. Glover pursed his lips and dashed out the long burnt row of ash. A dash sent the grey particles fluttering to the ground below and he settled the smoke between his lips, letting it hang there.

A slight gust of wind pushed his hair into his eyes, and he reached up, pushing it back, out of the way. No braids to get in the way this time. That was a shame. They weren't exactly a good look, but it gave Glover a warm fuzzy feeling inside. And that was a sensation he tried to cling to for as long as possible.  He didn't even look down this time, didn't wonder if a fall from this height would break his neck.

"I like that, Lamb Chop," he chuckled, wiggling the cigarette just at the brink of their lips. Flashing Wil a smile he reached up and brushed a few stray strands away from their face. "I can just picture you now, all cozied up with a hard copy of Detective Tales, and pretending you were Shade Cinders, from 'White Noise, Dark City.'  Well that settles what I'm getting you for your birthday."  He gave Wil a wink, plucking the smoke from his lips.

What Glover didn't say with is words, he hinted at with his eyes, boring into theirs. Something along the lines of dressing like a classic detective, overcoat, tipped hat, hunting down Lambo for a particularly intense hour of 'interrogation'.  If they proved to be a tough nut to crack, make it two hours.

"Do anything, huh? Oh goodness, Detective Lambert, you do know how to lay down the hard questions," he chuckled, dashing the smoke again, content to let it burn and the smoke waft in the air. It was nice to combat against the evening chill. Glover shifted closer along that fire escape, reaching out to take their hand, turning it over and pressing the pad of his thumb against the hand that had their own smoke in it.  A simple shift and he was tilting his head reaching down to take a drag off the end of their own cigarette.

Plumes puffed out from his nostrils, and a soft kiss to that pulse. "If I wasn't a cop, say, just a regular joe out there, I'd probably be a stripper. That sounds like a really fun job."  He was joking of course, and a small smirk played at the end of his lips as he shifted around to lean in real close to them, shoulder gently touching his. "Would you watch me dance? Stuff singles in my loin cloth?"
« Last Edit: August 07, 2017, 01:51:19 AM by Lion »

Offline nephero

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #46 on: August 08, 2017, 11:55:37 AM »
Glover's hand felt so warm-- Wil couldn't help but lean into the touch, adoring the sensation of Glover's fingers against their hair. Against any part of them, really. It didn't matter how fleeting the touch or any measure of intent. Every time it happened Wil's heart skipped a beat.

Lips curved into a wry sort of smile, Wil returned Glover's stare, heavy lidded and smoldering in equal measure. They were fairly sure that Glover had not meant he would be getting them a copy of Detective Tales. Perhaps something a little more hands on. Or hands off, depending on cuffs. Lots and lots of hands off.

They hummed, chuckling in amusement and stepping closer to their partner. Their partner. There were no words for how much Wil loved that sentiment. It was almost as good as the sensation of Glover's lips on their skin. As Glover pulled back, Wil reached up, snaked their fingers in his hair, and pulled him back down for a long, lingering kiss. Tendrils of smoke escaped between them, and they were likely losing a good percentage of their cigarette, but Wil couldn't be bothered to care.

Eventually though, the need for air outweighed the need to keep feeling those rough lips against their own. They parted, and Glover made his little wisecrack, and Wil nearly rolled their eyes right out of their skull. Of course, they hadn't expected anything less. This was Detective Daniels, after all.

“Mm, I would bankrupt myself converting every last paycheck into singles,” they shot back, grinning even as they took a last long drag from their cigarette and flicked the butt off the fire escape into the alley below. “Just to see you shake it in a loincloth. Ass.”

They shifted, arms folding across their chest even as they leaned in close to Glover, settling against his side and delighting in how easily they fit together.

“I like this, though. Being like we are. Because I don't know how much stripclub food I could really put up with. Blegh.”

Not that they really had much experience sampling strip club menus. Somehow it always seemed more like a… Glover place to be. Which just got under their skin in the worst way, all frowning lines and barely concealed contempt, and so they never stuck around longer than it took to get some questions answered.

Wil shifted again, snaking their arm around Glover's own, pulling his hand tight to their chest and dipping their head down to kiss at the knuckles. A little self assurance that Glover wouldn't be leaving their side any time soon.

“...Sevrin’s adorable by the way. I'm surprised you don't talk about him more. I didn't even know you had a nephew.”

Offline Lion

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #47 on: August 10, 2017, 12:59:14 PM »
It was times like this that made Glover want to be nothing more than smashed-in-the-face bloody drunk. That made his head swim and he didn't have to process anything with any real sense. The dregs of the day, the scuffle with the bum in the alley outside of the strip club, the blisters on his feet, were beginning to be felt now. And he wanted to crawl back in through the window, pop open a bottle until he passed out.

Thankfully, he didn't have to. Eyelids fell down over somber rose-gold eyes and he felt a soft lingering heat behind them. A pang in his chest at the way Wil curled their arm around his and brought his hand up.

Only then did he remember his knuckles and Glover wanted to pull his hand away. A knot built up in his gut, at the scabs that now formed on his knuckles and the blood that dried between his fingers. Wil could see it now, and he wanted to be sick. How could he walk in like this? Like the last dregs of a garbage fire, and then thrown into a pile of some drunk's sick all over a bar bathroom. Glover didn't pull away, no matter how much his mind screamed for him to do so.

In fact he just leaned heavier on his partner. Wil was good.  Will was safe, he reminded himself. Glover's expression flickered, and the fair hair on his knuckles raise and tingled, goosebumps rising up along his arm, the one that they cradled so naturally in their own affectionate embrace. Glover's heart sped up, and he felt that pulse in his throat.

"He's a good kid. My sister Evangeline's boy. I...really haven't had a chance to see him recently," Glover commented idly. Another pang. "Yeah well, I...."  Didn't really have a good excuse. "I don't talk about my brother River either. We all have those fancy names. But mind was the fanciest. Glover. I guess, I really don't think they're all that interesting. But Sevrin, he's the best of them all."

He stuck his tongue out at Wil, forcing himself to relax enough and his thumb folded over to where Wil's hand held his. No squirming, no getting away. "What about you Lambo? You don't ever talk about your family either."

Offline nephero

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #48 on: August 10, 2017, 02:52:47 PM »
There was a roughness to Glover's knuckles that didn't normally belong, and Wil carefully skirted their kisses around the healing skin. They could feel Glover's skin twitch against their own, like an impulse being fought down.

Wil just squeezed his hand all the closer, dark eyes flicking upwards to watch Glover's face. He really didn't look well: Glover Daniels was always this side of disheveled, but this was a bit beyond the usual. Wil supposed that was the price to pay for getting into bum fights, but somehow that didn't seem like it was the whole reason.

The idea rattled in their head, like some kind of terrible maraca, and it took a good deal of effort to squash the unpleasant sensation that went with it. After all, why would Glover hide something from them? Something actually important and not just where Wil’s hat was? It was ridiculous, and so Wil focused on comforting the other detective, planting soft kisses to his wristbone and smiling a bit as they did.

“Evangeline, River and Glover. And Sevrin. Yeah, I think Sevrin's got the fanciest, sorry, Glo, better luck next time.” They gasped in mock offense at Glover's tongue, before replying in kind, complete with a few blown raspberries for added effect.

“Yeah, well, not much to tell there. I haven't really kept in touch, and I was an only child, so, alas. I think my mother is still a nurse, unless she's managed to retire.”

They shrugged, apparently unbothered by the notion, smiling instead at the feel of Glover's thumb over their hand. Reciprocating the hold. Wanting to be there with them versus being dragged kicking and screaming.

“Kinda wish I'd had a sibling, though. Maybe I'd have a cute as a button nephew then, too.”

Offline Lion

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #49 on: August 10, 2017, 09:51:47 PM »
Glover's eyes twitched and he made a soft noise when Wil's kisses were pressed against his wrist bone. It sounded half way between a deep-throated hum and a whimper. The pulse in his throat reached his ears, and if the breeze against his skin was any indication, heat blushed up against his face.

Why did Wil have to kiss him like that? Those full soft lips, delicate and tantalizing, and his eyes flicked down to watch them press against his wrist, where no doubt his partner might feel his pulse quicken. Glover continued to press his thumb in, and leaning in just a little more. His other hand reached up to cup around the outside side of theirs.

He reached up and kissed the top part of their knuckles. Skin delicate and fingers somehow slight. How the hell did Wil manage to get skin so soft? They were working all the time, and when they weren't working they were hanging out with Glover. Or murdering their next replacement phone. Or they were somehow keeping from going batshit over where in hell's balls Glover was meandering next.

He flipped that wrist over and tucked his mouth in to where Wil's pulse lingered, pressing his own lips delicately to it.

"I don't think even I was as cute as Sevrin was when I was a kid. I was a little brat. I mean if you can possibly believe that. As opposed to the wonderful perfect example of good behavior. You'd vouch for that right?"

Glover sneered and flicked rosey eyes to Wil's huge brown ones. That warmth spread through him and and relaxed, for real this time. There was nothing forced about it. When he got the chance to be with them like this, the world was far away. Glover's hand continued to brush against that soft mocha skin.

"I don't think I've ever met your mother. Are you both kind of...uh, distant with each other? If you don't want to answer that, you don't have to. I don't ...uh, mean to pry." Except he did, and wondered if Wil's upbringing was anything in comparison to his own. Glover felt his stomach roll again, a small jolt of something that went up from his gut and into his chest. Jealousy? Or was it...affection?

"I can see you now. Young Wil Lambert, a screaming wild child, running out into the hallway stark naked, while your mom is trying to dry off your tushie. Adorable."

Offline nephero

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #50 on: August 22, 2017, 01:22:38 AM »
If the fire escape were to choose that very moment to collapse beneath them in a flurry of rust, sending the pair of them cascading down into the alleyway where a bit of ladder would inevitably spell Wil's untimely end, well, they would genuinely go into the afterlife feeling content with the state of their life.

Because what was better than this, Glover's lips on their wrist so feather soft and gentle? Certainly well beyond what anyone might possible expect him capable of. Well, anyone who didn't know him, and Wil rather relished the concept that they might be the only one who did. The thought was selfish, and more than a bit irrational, but they relished it nonetheless. Glover, the real Glover, all theirs and theirs alone.

"What? Glover Daniels, anything but the paragon of virtue? The man I love, a little brat. Perish the thought." they snickered even as they looked up into Glover's face, eyes flicking back and forth between Glover's own, over his nose and that rough stubble and those near constantly smirking lips. Unable to help themselves, Wil lifted one hand up and tapped a finger against Glover's mouth with a soft little 'boop!' "I bet you were... an adorable little ball of willfulness, wrapped up in a sweet little package. Always did what you wanted, but who could argue with that face?"

At the mention of their mother, though, Wil could only roll their eyes a bit, mouth curled into a tight pucker as they shrugged.

"She's never quite forgiven me for burying her son. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Family's what you make it, and... I kind of like this one better anyway."

They snorted, dissolving into snickering giggles as Glover described their hypothetical childhood, head shaking back and forth as they pushed stray strands of green out of their face.

"I was a bit of a hellion, from what I can actually remember. Though less about bathtime. Never understood fighting bathtime, I mean, you get special bubbles with that." They smirked up at Glover, wiggling carefully manicured eyebrows up at him. "I just had a bit of a... sweet tooth. Anything remotely sugary had to be kept under lock and key, and sometimes even then I'd find it and shove it in my face. I once broke into a padlocked cabinet to get at a cake my mother had baked. Puked icing for hours. Completely worth it."

They shifted a bit, moving forward and pressing close to Glover and bringing him into a tight hug. Not for any other reason than they wanted to be as close to him as possible, nuzzling into his chest in a sudden fit of... what? Overwhelming fondness? Some bizarre desperation to really solidify this was their family now? A little bit of both?

Offline Lion

Re: Things Fall Apart
« Reply #51 on: September 12, 2017, 12:56:36 AM »
Was it bad that Glover wanted Wil to be nothing more than selfish? Maybe. Probably. That there would be nothing more than the two of them left in all of Tynova. Hell even all of Edanith if need be. Just he and Lambchop and Sevrin, and no one left in that sorry excuse for a family that Glover was thrust into this world, screaming at the top of his lungs. There was also Arabelle, as sour as Sevrin was sweet, and admittedly Glover didn't spend nearly as much with her as he probably should have.

Was that even normal? Was anything about this even normal? A resounding, empty no echoed in his head. Nothing was normal, and everything was already broken, cracked, and frayed at the edges. The parts kept in place were held together meagerly with tape, and dried out glue. That hollow feeling grew and Glover clenched the muscles of his chest.

"Oh lots of arguments have been had over my face," Glover snorted, pushing against that hollowness, and burning salt that threatened to breach his eyes. "To my face. Around my face.  It's very charming. How could they do anything but fight over me."

Glover gave a slow cat-like blink, tingling all over from all those little touches, the fingers on his lips, those thin eyebrows perfectly quirked. Gorgeous, beautiful, and to think that somewhere underneath all that there was a mother out there mourning her son. That was one thing they had in common. But how anyone couldn't see how beautiful Wil was, was completely beyond Glover.

Those brown eyes, complemented by a veil of dark green hair. And the moment they buried their face into his chest, a sense of completeness washed over him. The hollowness abated for once, and as surely as it manifested, it was just as easily quelled. Glover hooked arms around that familiar form and buried hat head against his chest, where his heart was hammering wildly.

And didn't even feel it save for the burning sensation behind his eyes. "You're adorable, you know that? How anyone could let you go, I don't know. I'm just glad I found you. I'm glad you're mine. You're so good, Lambo, even when I don't deserve it. Especially then," Glover found those words spilling out of him and he squeezed Wil harder. "I love you."

More words wanted to fly out of him, everything, all of them. He was spilling over and he didn't know if he could stop himself. Glover shuddered and buried his face against Wil's cheek. For now all that came out was: "Please keep holding on. Don't let me go. Because I sure as hell want you in my life. "

A hollowed ache flowed outward and Glover gave a soft whimper. Because he didn't deserve it, any of that goodness that innately flowed outward. Fuck that old bat. Wil's mother didn't know what she had when she had them. And if she couldn't appreciate  Lambchop when for what they were, then he sure as shit would. Because if there was one thing for sure, he wouldn't be letting go.
« Last Edit: September 12, 2017, 01:12:49 AM by Lion »