cutting water with a knife
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“Look, Bob Bob,” he begins, falling back on the ol’ insult-turned-endearment, “I’m gonna be frank, since you won’t stop fucking around: I literally cannot imagine a future without you in it. So when you do shit that jeopardizes your health, I think I’m allowed to feel a certain way about it. —and ask me things like a normal person. You’re allowed to ask for things you want. You might actually get them.”
State-mandated or not, the fact that Flambae’s been attending therapy far longer than his bitch ass shows.
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Robert smokes. Flambae bitches about it. They figure their shit out and celebrate their wins with donuts.
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- Part 1 of cutting water with a knife
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As the morning grogginess recedes and he notices his own limbs, Robert blinks blearily and tries to roll onto his side—only for a hand to clasp at the small of his back.
Ah, shit.
He squints until Chad’s face comes into focus and gripes, “What the actual fuck, Flambae?”
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You know what's crazy about moving in with Flambae? The fact that Robert gets woken up in compromising positions more often than not.
Series
- Part 2 of cutting water with a knife