The hallway is so narrow Marie can block it completely with a single outflung arm. Joe stumbles into her and watches the door to the alley slam
( ... )
His unlaced shoes slip in the muck, and he swears, half-falling against the wall knotting the laces beyond all repair.. His ass hurts. Something moves in the streetlight a block down, and he's back on his feet, running to beat the devil
( ... )
Leonard's filter is bent into an angry V. Joe wills his limbs into motion and stumbles in the direction it points, trying to ignore how foolish it is. He stumbles to a stop under the overhang of a bookstore. "This is ridiculous," he mutters to himself. "I'm never gonna find him like this." He draws a cigarette out of his pocket with a shaking hand and fishes for a lighter. Leonard's Zippo flares to life in front of him. "Here." Joe freezes for a long moment, his few remaining wits gyrating helplessly. The rain has rendered his immaculate yellow shirt nearly transparent, and Joe knows he's staring but how could he ever have let Doran touch him, after this? A little voice in the back of his head begins a mantra of he-fucked-you-and-didn't-call, he-fucked-you-and-didn't-pay, but Joe is god damn not gonna start crying. His jaw locks, and he stares. Leonard's face is unreadable, his eyes fixed on the forgotten Lucky Strike hanging from Joe's lip
( ... )
Comments 6
So, continuations in the comments, yeah?
I meant that second bit to go after your drabble. As in "In the mirror, the dark head at his neck could almost-"
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Yeah, sounds good!
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"This is ridiculous," he mutters to himself. "I'm never gonna find him like this."
He draws a cigarette out of his pocket with a shaking hand and fishes for a lighter. Leonard's Zippo flares to life in front of him.
"Here."
Joe freezes for a long moment, his few remaining wits gyrating helplessly. The rain has rendered his immaculate yellow shirt nearly transparent, and Joe knows he's staring but how could he ever have let Doran touch him, after this? A little voice in the back of his head begins a mantra of he-fucked-you-and-didn't-call, he-fucked-you-and-didn't-pay, but Joe is god damn not gonna start crying. His jaw locks, and he stares. Leonard's face is unreadable, his eyes fixed on the forgotten Lucky Strike hanging from Joe's lip ( ... )
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