He should've told him to shut the fuck up. Especially after the idiot comment.
Normally, he would've had something sharp ready before Bert even finished speaking. But right now, his body seemed far more interested in the fingers moving through his hair than in keeping up >
โWouldnโt dream of it,โ Bert said, and it came out way too pleased.
Because he knew that one. ๐๐ฐ๐ฏโ๐ต ๐จ๐ฆ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ๐ฐ ๐ง๐ถ๐ค๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ต๐ข๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆ. Heโd heard Frank say it before, in that exact grumbling >
this time. It was nice. Comforting, even.
But it wasn't the kind of comfort he found in Gerard's arms. It didn't make the world disappear or leave him wanting to stay there forever.
It was simply a small, strangely familiar kindness.
And right now, he was tired enough >
apparently did.
โ Must've been one hell of a fucking idiot to let you anywhere near me.
There was no real bite behind it. Just the faintest trace of something that might have been a smile.
โ And don't get too fucking comfortable.
How fucking helpless he'd felt.
His gaze lingered on those bloodstained fingers before returning to Bert's face.
โ ...Fine. โ He looked away, jaw tightening. โ Just the hair. And don't make it fucking weird.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected.
But the moment he felt those >
fingers slip into his hair, something inside him seemed to recognize the sensation.
His shoulders dropped. Not much. Barely an inch. But enough.
He didn't remember Bert. Didn't remember his hands, his voice, or whatever the fuck they'd been to each other. But his body >