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Summary
A puff of air in the form of an irritated sigh left between Fiddleford's lips, but before he was able to wrap his mind around the text that seems to be already haunting him on his journal, he suddenly felt a warm grip on his shoulder. The man sucked in a breath as he turned his neck to see who had grabbed him, although he already knew there was one person who was around him working on the same exact thing he was.
“Stanford?” The man that seemed to be brewing with nervousness cut the growing silence with his voice that seemed to be slightly hoarse from not using it for hours. His gaze averted from Stanford’s fingertips and onto the other man’s face, his own eyebrows raising from the sight. Stanford’s eyebrows were tightly knitted together, whether it was in agony or some sort of pain Fiddleford was not able to figure out.
Deeply inspired by @slimeys0daa on tiktok!