[ but that still leaves him with lead under his tongue and an empty, mindless pull underlying every bone. the bed's too big with the way he's crowded himself against the wall, one knee drawn up. holding his place as if he's only waiting.
it isn't the fever; it can't be just that. but there're no other options. ]
no subject
it isn't the fever; it can't be just that. but there're no other options. ]
can i see you?