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“Why don’t you lie down with me, Francis?”
Francis’s eyes snap to James again. James’s eyes are closed, still, one hand lazily indicating the pillows next to him in an invitation that borders on—that borders on—
“I won’t bite. Don’t have the teeth for it anymore, I’m afraid.” James smiles a half-smile, satisfied but close-mouthed, and Francis feels guilt like a hot spike driven into his guts. He laughs, weakly. James opens his eyes at the sound.
Francis seeks refuge in the pipe.Francis. James. An opium den. They try to make the pieces fit.
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Bookmark Notes:
El dolor es proporcional al alivio del final. 🔥❤💯👌
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Bookmark Notes:
A lil bit devastating, I'm not gonna lie. A lot of internalized homophobia from James.