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Summary
Explorers, they say, are made of hope. What, then, are ghosts made of? (What is the ghost of an explorer made of?) Time, time, nothing but time.
A Fitzier Ghost and Mrs Muir au. My brain was like, can you make Fitzier sadder?, and my heart responded: yes.
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Bookmark Notes:
作家James的新家闹鬼(the ghost and Mrs Muir au)
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‘Dundy is visiting tomorrow,’ James said, as he climbed into the bed and settled down upon the pillows.‘That’s good,’ said Francis. He was quiet and thoughtful - had been, James thought, for some time now. ‘He makes you happy, doesn’t he?
James frowned and reached for Francis, who came readily into his arms. Once they had settled, with Francis lying on James’ chest, his ear pressed to the steady beating of James’ heart, James said: ‘Yes. He’s a good sort of egg.’
Francis hummed but said nothing. His hand traced up and down James’ arm. He was solid and trembling.
‘What’s wrong?’ James said softly.
‘Nothing.’ Francis turned his head and kissed him. The kiss deepened and grew heated. Francis pulled back. ‘Your heart is beating so fast.’
‘It’s because of you.’
Francis closed his eyes as if pained. He kissed James and they did not speak again.