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“You,” Jupiter narrowed his eyes. “texted.”
“Yeah, I texted. For us to speak later! Not now.” Erebus looked him up and down, and Jupiter fixed his posture, straightening his spine. “For heaven’s sake, you’re drunk, aren’t you? I chose the wrong goddamn time to text you.” His expression tightened, his mouth thinning, and Jupiter finally felt a bit of remorse, his hand clenching tight around his phone. “Get in here,” Erebus finally said, turning to the side and jerking his head in a harsh motion. “Before you decide to leave and fall down the stairs. Even if it was your fault, I still think Saturn would find a way to stick me with a fucking manslaughter charge.”
Or; Erebus sends the right text at the wrong time (or is it?).
Bookmarked by help-exe123143 (diagonalization_in_threes)
30 Oct 2024
