(no subject)
The grass was cold against his fingers, wet from the rain that afternoon, staining his jeans and leaving his hands slippery. He tugged at the tall blades, pulling them from the ground absently and staring ahead as the sun sank, stone biting into his back.
She'd come looking for him soon, he knew. She always did and he couldn't quite managed to blame her for it, even as he wished she'd just leave him here.
Jamie blinked, the cold slicing into his skin as he watched the dying sun, turning the sky a thousand shades of red and orange.
Maybe she wouldn't come tonight.
His throat was raw from speaking, even though he didn't remember saying a thing. Resting his head back against the stone, Jamie let exhaustion bleed into his body, fingers digging into the wet soil.
Maybe tonight, she'd leave him here.