blue
he/him
twenty five
february 24
mauville
samsexual
addict
grunt
let us live, since we must die
TAG WITH @knox
knox prescott
fright night
POSTED ON Oct 26, 2021 17:00:05 GMT
it should get easier. with more meat on his bones and a healthy sheen to his face and the worst of it behind him, it should get easier. with sam beside him, wrapped around him, on top of him, beneath him, nuzzled against him, it should keep away the hurt. and yet somehow it leaks in through all his cracks and fissures and reminds him that he is not whole.
he plateaus and one day, when he manages to stay awake while sam drifts off (how, he does not know), he creeps out of bed and shrugs on his hoodie and lopes outside.
hecate joins him, though he has a feeling it's more to make sure he doesn't run off and leave a gaping hole in sam's heart. he scratches her fluff and assures her that he has no such intentions.
"i should tell him," he says. tell him about the messages. about the phone calls. about the promises of malintent coming from a man wronged one too many times. but selfishness and the desire to keep this bubble wrapped around the two of them have him ignoring them. they're safe, so long as they're careful, and careful they've been.
"i found a place just outside oldale. a creepy, haunted trail or something. i called. none of it'll make him claustrophobic. think he'll want to do that? for his birthday?" hecate doesn't provide him an answer. his phone, however, buzzes.
he grins and beckons the absol to follow. waiting inside the greeting area is a delivery man who's looking a bit green on his cheeks from teleporting. he holds out a handful of boxes and knox fishes the last of his cash from his pocket, tipping him generously.
he hefts the boxes of food and slips back into the room. the smell of pancakes and hash browns and freshly toasted oats and bacon and a dozen other types of breakfast foods slowly fills the room. he sets the boxes in their bags down on the bed and then clambers onto sam.
"wake up, sleepy. it's birthday time."
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