Gutterflower /6
zero / one / two / three / four / five
The boy at the servo knows who he is.
It’s like a wet fish to the face, and terrifies Jaejoong far more then the fact that his whole body has gone clammy cold and that he’s shivering.
This latter fact seems to worry the boy more though, and his face is a mess of odd worry and confusion. Jaejoong doesn’t know what to make of it. All he had wanted was some more vodka. And carrots. He wanted carrots. But there weren’t any there. He remembered getting more of those chips instead, the orange ones. What’d he do with them again?
“Shit, you look like you’re going to collapse.” The boy sounds like he knows what he’s talking about, and Jaejoong wonders if he’s right. Collapsing actually sounds like a good thing to do right now. His knees buckle.
“Fuck!” Mmm. No…
“Where are you staying?” The words are somehow urgent, and the boy’s grip is hard and bruising around his arm. The boy’s face swims into view again, his small eyes wide, forehead crinkled. The flat concrete of the entrance to the servo is nicely solid and cool as he sinks onto it. His jeans will be dirty.
He can hear mumbling, and realizes after a moment that it’s coming from himself.
The hands tighten further, and Jaejoong holds back a whimper. Don’t whimper. Not ever. Bad bad bad. Just lie back and block it out. Let it happen. Jaejoong imagines a wall of white, and ignores the hands all over his body.
The boy at the servo knows who he is.
It’s like a wet fish to the face, and terrifies Jaejoong far more then the fact that his whole body has gone clammy cold and that he’s shivering.
This latter fact seems to worry the boy more though, and his face is a mess of odd worry and confusion. Jaejoong doesn’t know what to make of it. All he had wanted was some more vodka. And carrots. He wanted carrots. But there weren’t any there. He remembered getting more of those chips instead, the orange ones. What’d he do with them again?
“Shit, you look like you’re going to collapse.” The boy sounds like he knows what he’s talking about, and Jaejoong wonders if he’s right. Collapsing actually sounds like a good thing to do right now. His knees buckle.
“Fuck!” Mmm. No…
“Where are you staying?” The words are somehow urgent, and the boy’s grip is hard and bruising around his arm. The boy’s face swims into view again, his small eyes wide, forehead crinkled. The flat concrete of the entrance to the servo is nicely solid and cool as he sinks onto it. His jeans will be dirty.
He can hear mumbling, and realizes after a moment that it’s coming from himself.
The hands tighten further, and Jaejoong holds back a whimper. Don’t whimper. Not ever. Bad bad bad. Just lie back and block it out. Let it happen. Jaejoong imagines a wall of white, and ignores the hands all over his body.