howwasanonnottaken
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“Take that back Skeppy,” the other whined playfully at the statement, as if his stomach didn’t tangle up in knots, dreading the thought of letting his beloved go after all these years in a cautious tango.
There was a deafening silence.
And then a small chuckle, which was chased after by hysterical laughter. The shift in atmosphere was uncomfortably jarring, the underlying tone to his beloved’s laughter desperate and saddened.
He was barely able to squeak out a meek sounding, “Skeppy?”
Skeppy’s vision seemed to refocus, shattered glass meeting clear crystal, and Bad could’ve sworn he saw a flash of anger, or even worse, hurt.
“Why can’t you fucking call me Zak?”
- - - - -
He’s sure he could move on.
Sure he should’ve done things differently.
Sure things would’ve turned out differently if he had.
Sure it would’ve been enough to keep him.
Maybe.
He likes to think so, anyway.