With the sudden gain in personal space, Jonas could ignore the sense of lost that swarmed in his own personal air. At times like this, when the loss was like a white hot heat burning into his chest, Jonas regretted a lot. It was only meant to be fun, it was only meant to be something to pass time when the lust was too much to handle or in those weak late nights together. But in some way, it had formed into something more, a best friend, a confidant, and a desire that never seemed to be filled. The only solution was to bring the can back to his lips for another long pull of the alcohol hidden inside. âI didnât know you were looking for a personal nurseâ, was the only appropriate response that came to mind. With dinner all but done, there wasnât too much he could continue to distract himself with anymore. Which only meant one thing, it was time for the real challenge to start. âYou know sheâll never quit, as much as she hates her boss, she loves her job. I just think the hospital needs to get their shit together and just fire this dude and give my mom the promotion sheâs deserved for yearsâ, the safe topic was still the best option, right now. Multi-colored eyes focused on the browning meat, just finishing the last bit of tacos to lay out the rest of the fixings. It was only a few moments before he was announcing that dinner was ready and the loss of all distractions.
           they each wrapped their hands around their respective beers, aristotleâs barely touched despite his best interests, and it felt like they were skating around the edges of seven different conversations. jonas didnât mind aristotle being here, but he did mind his hands on his back. jonas wanted to be friends, without distractions, but what they were doing now didnât exist inside a vacuum, and it didnât feel exclusively friendly. aristotle didnât know what it meant. he was having a hard time seeing the big picture, or whatever the fuck people said as a consultation prize to let people down easy. he was tired of being in a perpetual state of looking away, picking apart expressions, of looking for lines on the ground when you could only see them from the sky. it took courage to hold onto knives, like it took courage to speak in sentences. aristotle had only ever really been good at one of those things. â fucker, â he said, with as much bitterness as he could master. he downed half of the cans contents in one, wiping his mouth with the flat side of his hand. the nurses were the best thing to ever happen to rhode islandâs private hospital, and it was a goddamn tragedy. â i told maâ all the ladies on call should just like, go full on planet of the apes. just throw a shitfest. fuck everyone, â she hadnât warmed to the idea, even after aristotle had drawn a semi realistic portrait of beth, the newest recruit, flinging a urinal bag at management's office door. sheâd kept it, though, with one of her private smiles. aristotle loved his mother so much that it hurt to think heâd never fully appreciated her when he was younger, that he didnât know how to. â she didnât go for it. â he concluded, needlessly, leaning back onto the kitchen island. aristotleâs elbows were at an odd angle, but this was the closest to comfortable heâd been with jonas in months.
snowghoul
pixelskylines
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
yousharknotpass