( it'd be easier, to let herself hide in him, to forget where that innocent message he'd started the night off with had wandered off to β the dark had never learned how to hold her, and she the dark in turn β really, she doesn't know if she's invited him here as a means to distract herself or because she's comfortable enough to let him see her at such an hour, when lack of sleep and all its reasons why feast upon her. it's different when you're downing whiskey, tasting it off of one another, when you have an excuse. as it is, there's half a mug of coffee that's run cold sitting on the kitchen counter, and her sobriety is sharp.
she laughs, and while it's fickle β distracted, almost, as if she's still not entirely there, present β at least it's honest. )
I guess it's sort of becoming our thing, sleepless sleepovers.
( it seems kind of brash to invite him to her room, and while she can't say there isn't any kindling of want for him when he's standing right there before her, a vivid memory of a few nights prior, it's not what she's after. she waits at least til he's taken the glass from her, wrapping one arm about her frame while the other gestures a hand behind her. )
I was in my room, if you want toβ ( join? she is so god awful at this, and it's almost in knowing that she offers an apologetic tilt to the edge of her lips. )
no subject
( it'd be easier, to let herself hide in him, to forget where that innocent message he'd started the night off with had wandered off to β the dark had never learned how to hold her, and she the dark in turn β really, she doesn't know if she's invited him here as a means to distract herself or because she's comfortable enough to let him see her at such an hour, when lack of sleep and all its reasons why feast upon her. it's different when you're downing whiskey, tasting it off of one another, when you have an excuse. as it is, there's half a mug of coffee that's run cold sitting on the kitchen counter, and her sobriety is sharp.
she laughs, and while it's fickle β distracted, almost, as if she's still not entirely there, present β at least it's honest. )
I guess it's sort of becoming our thing, sleepless sleepovers.
( it seems kind of brash to invite him to her room, and while she can't say there isn't any kindling of want for him when he's standing right there before her, a vivid memory of a few nights prior, it's not what she's after. she waits at least til he's taken the glass from her, wrapping one arm about her frame while the other gestures a hand behind her. )
I was in my room, if you want toβ ( join? she is so god awful at this, and it's almost in knowing that she offers an apologetic tilt to the edge of her lips. )