โ
heโs lost sensation of his lips, though. it makes him unsure of how effective his plan is, now.
โis it working?โ he mumbles into their skin, syllables hindered.
โ
โ
should it be a reward & not another one of lifeโs motions? must warmthโโloveโโsucceed an exchange? a transaction?
to say they deserve this is to say they deserve a meal, or a home. redundancy always annoyed jon.
โ
โ
there is a flutter of warmth in their chest at the bestowed love, a shiver delicately flittering up their spine at the notion of this earned ๐ffection. what would often make them ๐ โ๐๐๐๐ in a tidal wave of self consciousness now has them inclining like a flower โฆ
โ
โ
yet, it does feel right to bestow this after all martin has done for him. he does hold himself to a double standard. itโll take a lifetime of reparations for him to be forgiven; yet, this doesnโt feel like an apology or payment.
โ
โ
he cradles his frostbitten love in a secure embrace, serving as their foundation. his cheek nuzzles in its rightful, familiar place before lips replace it, pressing close to ice.
it seems heโs attempting to defrost him, though his skin quickly aches with numbness.
โ
โ
pleasant hum, glacial residue glittering in auburn strands like diamonds. although they could never quite reach warmthโโthe abundance of sweaters hopelessly swathing ice kissed skin can attest to thatโโthey still swoon at the gesture.
faintly leaning back.
โ
โ
there, his gaze drags from his charred lament, & the sight of her makes him breathe again. slow, caught in his throat, his burnt hand clasping the hardly sipped tea. he wonders what must be sinking her to him at such an hour.
"georgie?"
โ
โ
the more he loses himself in the question, the heavier he feels. it seems his heart can't find its way to the surface, a mile beneath the earth as a shovel wearily persists.
when a second weight hangs itself, he believes it to be his own, until a throat clears.
โ
โ
theyโre strangely calm about this. theyโre not sure if itโs due to ๐คโ๐โ๐ holding the blade or the familiarity of the position theyโre in. regardless, they train their visage to some caution, mostly out of politeness & to give the kid some leverage.
โ
โ
switchblade not lowered, clutched tightly to chest in furled fingers. truthfully, he could say the same about ๐๐๐๐โโthat piercing glare made him feel like ๐๐ was the one seconds from knifepoint.
โ i get that a lot. โ
โ