(no subject)

[sadtype.livejournal.com]

[ is sitting up already with his head between his knees while continuing his sobbing. jumps when simon chucks the pillows across the room, letting out a small sound of surprise at the sudden movement.

though the next moment he's scooting away as far as he can from simon, backed up against the headboard like a scared animal would. ]

Comments

[easytype.livejournal.com]

[ looks frustrated. ]

But-- you wouldn't. Otherwise. Would you. [ it was meant to be a question, instead coming out as a statement, more bitter in flavor. ] You wouldn't stay with me. You'd let people steal you away.

1/2

[sadtype.livejournal.com]

[ panics for a second, knowing this is making simon upset. and when simon (anyone) is upset, it's time for oliver to act accordingly. ]

N-no, that's not-!

[sadtype.livejournal.com]

[ but he stops, giving a hurt look back at him. speaks very clearly this time, shaking his head. ]

... I don't know.

1/3

[easytype.livejournal.com]

. . .

[ snorts. ]

[easytype.livejournal.com]

[ looks weirdly amused by this. ]

Yeah. I don't know. Me neither.

[easytype.livejournal.com]

[ flops back onto the bed again, back once again towards oliver. ]

[sadtype.livejournal.com]

[ lifts a hand, then puts it back down. lets a long pause pass them by, then says the only thing he knows is true: ]

... I'm sorry.

[easytype.livejournal.com]

Be quiet. I'm going to sleep.

[ shuts his eyes tightly. & then turns on his side to face oliver, opens his arms awkwardly from where he's lying down. ]

[sadtype.livejournal.com]

[ resorts to a sad pout when he says that, though blinks a few times at the (very sudden) open invitation.

feels his cheeks go warm as he slowly, cautiously lowers himself down. ]

[easytype.livejournal.com]

[ all but grabs him immediately, clinging to his warmth. ]

You're mine until you make up your mind. Okay?

[sadtype.livejournal.com]

[ isn't... really used to this, so he stays still. instinct tells him to close his eyes, head sort of tucking itself closer to simon. ]

... yes. I'm yours.

[ a small hand grips a little portion of simon's nightshirt, though he's unsure as to why. ]