blue
he/him
twenty five
february 24
mauville
samsexual
addict
grunt
let us live, since we must die
TAG WITH @knox
knox prescott
pity [c]
POSTED ON Sept 3, 2021 2:54:10 GMT
thankful, so incredibly beyond thankful for the hand in his own, for sam's insistence almost makes him tear up again. except, no, wait, that's the pain. the pain in his gut and the lingering ache in his head and just how fucking exhausted he is, being poked and prodded and losing more blood.
how much of this do i have? he thinks. sam would probably know. eden too.
he narrows his eyes at her when she very clearly puts him in his place, but there's something sparkling in those beat-down eyes of his. because he's missed her and her dry humor and the way she just doesn't give a shit.
and it's nice, for a moment, until sam moves in for a low blow. knox makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, mostly because he's at a loss for words, and there's betrayal stinging his features because it's like a slap in the face.
i don't deserve this.
"i don't feel anything," he says glumly to her, but his wincing says otherwise. his white-knuckled hand in sam's own, fingers digging, says it too.
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