Work Text:
Armand shifts ever so slightly closer to Louis. He sweeps his hair from his neck, baring it in the cold air of their bedroom.
Louis doesn't glance up from his book. His jaw works, but he says nothing.
Hurt flares inside him, quick and fierce. Louis would give him whatever he wants, Armand knows, if only he would ask.
But Armand wants to be silent. Wants the tilt of his head or the angle of his body to be enough. It once was.
Louis flips to the next page. Armand turns on the sheets, curls inward, and shuts his eyes.