blood on your hands, they say. as though it stops there ﹔ at your wrist, like a glove. as though you could do this, and there could be any part of you that wasn't stained or dripping.
💭 thinking about maybe dying his hair a different color, but then again he's gotten this far without being caught.
but every once in awhile he has that 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 in the back of his mind that maybe he did fuck up along the lines at some point.
blood on your hands, they say. as though it stops there ﹔ at your wrist, like a glove. as though you could do this, and there could be any part of you that wasn't stained or dripping.
the way he wants to 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚 the other right now,
cue the soft little sigh.
“fine, only if you get me the same exact ones.”
giving in was probably the safer option anyways, than refusing over and over.