postduif
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He’s standing over you now, heavy boots on either side of your body. The black leather seemed actually clean, shiny and reflective even in the dimmed light. Did he polish them often? Surely he must if they’re this spotless, I mean, look at all the filth lying around compared to—
“Like ‘m?” A gruff laugh (though it sounded more like a growl) from the cop brings you back once more. Before you knew it, you’d nodded sluggishly in response, why lie? Maybe he’d keep you alive if you were nice.
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Andrew snaps out of his thoughts as he steps onto a stick, breaking it in half with a somewhat loud crack. He strayed a little off the path, now being in the forest that borders the graveyard. He was just about to turn to walk back, when something caught his eye, his gaze lingering on some flowers by a tree trunk. Snowdrops.
(Fyi its almost 4 am and im just rambling at this point)
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The two stand like that for a while, just looking into the other their eyes. But eventually Victor moves, not breaking eyecontact as he gently grasps Andrew’s gloved hand in his bare one, a smile on his face as he tugs the gravekeeper along. “I know a spot,” the postman’s words are barely a whisper, almost completely inaudible over the wind, but Andrew heard. God, how couldn’t he.
i dont really know how ao3 works oops