tell me, father, which am i to ask forgiveness for: what i am, or what i'm not? tell me, mother, which should i regret: what i became, or what i didn't?
The first knock against @VexedBlasphmey’s door has some trepidation to it.
𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐓. 𝐍𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 ... 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞. ’𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 ��𝐯𝐞𝐧’.
…how long had it been since he’d first knocked? Trenton had lost track of time while
@VexedBlasphmey "Don't mention it,"
Waving his now freed hand off in an attempt to brush off his thanks, Trenton reaches to grab the drink that'd been remaining for him, taking a much-needed sip; a sip that allows him a few seconds respite, time to collect his thoughts, try to quell the +
@VexedBlasphmey like Trenton’s dorm was anything to write home about, either.
Setting down the cup carrier on top of Tyler’s dresser, Trenton reaches to grab one of the cups held there, double-checking that it was Tyler’s before extending his arm, holding it out for him to take.
“Order +
side before he’s shifting weight against his heels, loosely holding a to-go carrier in his opposite hand, gaze shifting to take in his surroundings while he’d waited for Tyler to arrive.
trying to mentally coach himself into acting as natural as possible (and aiming to suppress the nerves building in the pit of his stomach —— or were they butterflies? He loathed the idea of either), so he’d offer a second knock against it, and a third just to be on the safe
I did no such thing.
. . . you actually conceded? That was unexpected. Didn’t know if you’d appreciate being called ‘adorable’. You strike me as a much more … ‘macho’ guy.