I lit a fire that wouldn't go out
[Locked to elegantinmind || Futility!Verse]
[They've been drinking for a while now, cheap foriegn wine that feels sticky against Eames' tongue, but makes his skin buzz pleasantly. His thumb is stained red from a spill and he rubs at it for something to do. Both men are propped up against the pillows on their bed, an old, flickering television at the end playing some kind of soap opera.
Shifting, Eames tucks his head against Arthur's shoulder, a hand splayed against his boyfriend's stomach. For the past little while he's not said much, not moved apart from to feed Arthur crisps from the packet by his knees, fingers lingering too long by his mouth. Now he snorts, reaches for the glass of wine on the tiny table that they're sharing from.]
Isn't that the bloke who was in the coma? The one from the farm? Or is this wine actually made of petrol and I've gone blind?
[They've been drinking for a while now, cheap foriegn wine that feels sticky against Eames' tongue, but makes his skin buzz pleasantly. His thumb is stained red from a spill and he rubs at it for something to do. Both men are propped up against the pillows on their bed, an old, flickering television at the end playing some kind of soap opera.
Shifting, Eames tucks his head against Arthur's shoulder, a hand splayed against his boyfriend's stomach. For the past little while he's not said much, not moved apart from to feed Arthur crisps from the packet by his knees, fingers lingering too long by his mouth. Now he snorts, reaches for the glass of wine on the tiny table that they're sharing from.]
Isn't that the bloke who was in the coma? The one from the farm? Or is this wine actually made of petrol and I've gone blind?