(399. Softly round your dreaming head.)
"Futon. Basically crap," Saffi says,nearly-drunken voiced, waving one hand towards the offending object in a manner that reminds Stephen of something from a Michael Stipe music video. "Come on, we can share, 's upstairs."
Stephen follows, pauses in the bedroom doorway. A bed, a rumpled mess of blankets, soon obscured by Saffi himself sprawling haphazardly across. "c'mon. Get the light, it's too bright," Saffi whines.
At home, Stephen and Dio have two beds in one bedroom like Rob and Laura, Lucy and Ricky.
(He'll be caught in an embrace, lulled to sleep by the other man's heartbeat, awaken comforted and heartbroken all at once.)
Stephen follows, pauses in the bedroom doorway. A bed, a rumpled mess of blankets, soon obscured by Saffi himself sprawling haphazardly across. "c'mon. Get the light, it's too bright," Saffi whines.
At home, Stephen and Dio have two beds in one bedroom like Rob and Laura, Lucy and Ricky.
(He'll be caught in an embrace, lulled to sleep by the other man's heartbeat, awaken comforted and heartbroken all at once.)