(no subject)
Jim hasn't left the hut. Reid's stuff's everywhere; ties draped over the back of a chair, shoes in the corner, a neat stack of notebooks on the desk. Maybe Reid never really decided to live there, but the evidence that he did is all over the place. Jim tries not to look at any of it. He lies in fresh sheets, the old ones stripped the night of the party but left piled in the corner, and he tries not think about it.
Which is easier said than done.
He ought to get up. He knows that ought to.
Which doesn't mean he does.
Which is easier said than done.
He ought to get up. He knows that ought to.
Which doesn't mean he does.