[For some unknown reason, it's impossible for Chris to tear his eyes away from Cassel in that moment. He lies on his side on the bed, watching the boy next to him through his one visible eye, silent and aching and in agony over his own hidden secrets. It's a Barge joke that Chris is a loudmouth who wouldn't know subtlety if it hit him like a brick, but his most painful, private thoughts that stand out all the more prominently when he's this close to their root, these he'll take to his grave. Some days - and this is looking to be like one of them - he wants to cry or scream in frustration and self-hatred because how can a feeling he hates this much feel so wonderful at the same time?
Ignoring the racing, burning pace of his own heartbeat, Chris mumbles something indistinguishable and sets his chin back up against Cassel's shoulder in an effort to make more room on the bed. This close, it's easy to whisper his rebuttal without anyone overhearing;]
spam
Ignoring the racing, burning pace of his own heartbeat, Chris mumbles something indistinguishable and sets his chin back up against Cassel's shoulder in an effort to make more room on the bed. This close, it's easy to whisper his rebuttal without anyone overhearing;]
You want to help?
Go make me a sandwich.