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Summary
He can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t even know how to articulate what this is—but that does nothing to dampen the inescapable insistence, deep in his core, that he cannot put up with it for a moment longer. Whatever the price of freedom, he is ready to pay it.
So he barricades his door, and sits down against the wall, and does his best to brace himself.
Because here’s the thing: Hastur chose him for his music. Ergo, no more music—no more of Hastur’s attentions.
He takes his pinky between his teeth.
Series
- Part 7 of Whump Challenge Prompt Fills