there’s an odd sense of pride that fills him at the sound of gene’s surprise, and reign almost smiles. almost. instead, he shuts off the faucet and turns to rummage through the fridge. careless and rude, he doesn’t really comprehend that things aren’t his to take whenever he pleases ( and that includes gene ), and thus his actions don’t strike him as something bad. reign doesn’t really have any understanding of limits. never has. and eugene has yet to say something. “did i disturb you?” as if he cares. there’s no depth or meaning to his words, he’s asking more so to find out what gene will answer. wonders if he’ll be a good boy and please him like he always does. busy. it tastes funny in his mouth, and his attention shifts from remnants of what appears to have been gene’s dinner, to the man himself. a brow raises, smallest of curls to the side of his mouth. “another neglected housewife or was it one of the rare men this time?” he doesn’t really wait for an answer, or perhaps it’s just his reckless nature, but he’s on to the next thing that piques his interest. shutting the fridge door with idle fingers, his eyes trail to take in the taller’s visage, flickering only a second to his neck when he somehow awkwardly brushes a hand against the back of it, and reign licks his lips subconsciously. “not really.” as if to spite him, his stomach rumbles seconds after the poor lie. it’s no surprise that he’s got shitty karma, really. somewhat upset to find himself here, as always, reign simply offers a slight shrug. it’s always like this ; him coming to gene for reasons unknown to the both of them and lingering like a stormy cloud. he’s lost in thought until the uncertainty woven finley onto the other’s features pulls him back, and he blinks stupidly. “yes, clean me.” there’s a fleeting moment where reign has the audacity to entertain the thought of spending the night, having gene pamper him to a nice bath and clean the dried blood from under his finger nails but alas, life isn’t that sweet. to calm his racing mind and restless hands, he hoists himself up on the kitchen counter. “i don’t want a bath, just get a rag or something.” he mumbles in the midst of tugging his hoodie off, the cream coloured tee underneath tainted with deep reds. a hand goes to push his fringe back, and reign scratches at the dry patches of blood on his face.
❛ no. ❜ that’s one hell of a lie. the paper he’s writing remains half-written & he’s on the cusp of the due-date. damn him for procrastinating. he doesn’t have the heart to tell reign this even though, in reality, he should. there’s an urge to ask more concerns bled with concern. he realizes very quickly that he won’t get a satisfactory answer. he chooses to remain quiet until reign speaks. cheeks flush as soon as the question is spilled out. really, he shouldn’t be surprised by such a question –– it’s one reign has asked a plethora of times. he’s still left flustered, mainly because he’s not used to speaking so openly about his job. ❛ uh... ❜ sudden;y he’s embarrassed, head shakes before he’s raising a hand to cover his now bright red cheeks. ❛ a regular. i see her weekly. ❜ if he were to give a blunt, less embarrassed answer it would be yes, a neglected housewife. he hopes the answer he gives it decent enough. mentally he wishes that reign decides to move on from this topic. luckily for gene, he does. he has to resist the urge to let out a sigh of relief. the tall figure stands up entirely as he’s just about to fetch a rag. a step is taken in the direction of the rag he has laid out on the kitchen counter. white, pristine & surely about to be ruined by blood. ( not that gene cares much for the rag. ) a step is taken in the rag’s direction but the rumbling of reign’s stomach halts gene’s movements. he stops in mid-step, turning back towards reign with his jaw hanging open. ❛ are you sure? ❜ there it is, that infamous concern returns to his tone as he stares down. of course, he doesn’t stop what he’s doing entirely. gene knows reign well enough to continue on with his current goal. reign might get snappy if he doesn’t listen. ( who can blame gene for being afraid? ) once directly in front of the rag, he’s picking it up with a single hand. back he turns to reign, noticing that the hoodie has now been tugged off. it’s then that he realizes just what damage he’s dealing with. once again, he’s worried. ❛ take your shirt off. ❜ because he needs to see how bad it is. ❛ if you need stitches or anything, i could try to stitch you up. ❜ if he even can.
