ᶦ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵘᶦᶫᵗ ᶰᵒᵗʰᶦᶰᵍ

i'm just an architect.

[isaac-day-blog]

tinycameron.

It’s amazing, to Cams, how three people can use pet-names in his life and have them mean completely different things. With Aiden, babyboy meant control. Looking back on it now makes his spine tingle and the air threaten to leave his lungs – it had been a power play that he’d mistaken for love and adoration. With Arsen, it had been sexual, whispered into the shell of his ear to make Cams tremble in a way much different to Aiden’s demands for submission but still just as charged.

With Izzy, Cams is still shivering but it’s not out of weakness nor out of arousal (not that he’s not felt that particular sensation around the ethereal being he’s lucky enough to call his boyfriend, though). His tremors are out of pleasure, a comforting heat pushing away the chill of dread and chasing it to his extremities. He’s Izzy’s sweetheart and its possessive without the power play; he belongs to by choice.

The touch speaks where words do not, could not. The knobs of his spine are massaged so they ache less, his whole frame easing into the repetition and slackening against Izzy’s chest. It’s almost like the embrace of a warm blanket – his favourite blanket, even – and he lets his eyes fall closed, still pressed close enough to have his lashes tease Izzy’s plush pink lip. Hearing it aloud, hearing Izzy acknowledge Aiden so openly, helps in its own way. Speaking about it at all helps and makes him feel less guilty about the bruising, about the secrets of his own wretchedness he’s keeping locked away.

“I love you.” It’s a whisper of a breath between them but he’s saying it back. A little late, a little soft, but he’s still saying it. 

“I… I told him what we were. That’s okay, right? I told him I have a boyfriend.” It had been a minor victory at the time but here, with his voice creaking and his body close to trembling, it feels even more important. It feels like he’s giving back to Izzy who’s taking such good care of him. He’s proud to be Izzy’s, proud to have Izzy be his. Pride and insecurity, evidently, mingle very unstably for Cams.

It’s not late. It’s perfect. It’s always perfect when Cams tells him that he loves him, and it always elicits a very visceral reaction from Izzy that he’s come to associate with the most intimate moments between them. When they’re all skin on skin, heated pants and the damp brush of mouths, the press of hands, and when it’s early in the morning and Izzy talks to God, and his voice trails off because he gets lost looking at him, and he suddenly can’t swallow his words down past all of the others. It feels the same, every time he says it, as it does when he’s lost in those moments.

His heart flutters in his chest.

“Yes. Of course it is.” The words come before his mind has even got proper chance to translate and process what Cams is saying, and it’s a knee-jerk reaction to offer him comfort when he sounds so vulnerable, but in this case even if Izzy had taken the time to mull it over, his response would’ve been the same. In fact, it might of even been better, because all of the sudden his cheek is dimpling, and he’s got a smile stretching his lips. Oh. He told him he has a boyfriend. He told him he has Izzy.

Okay.

There’s a watery little inhale, and he knows he has to keep it together for him, but these are a lot more than the tears he’d had for him before. These are relief, and happiness, and love, and incredible, beautiful security all wrapped up into one. They don’t spill, but they pool, and his vision is blurry even as his lids slip shut. What had he been thinking before? What thoughts had been running through his head in regards to Aiden that would make this such a profound feeling of being unburdened right now? Perhaps he thought Cams would leave him. Perhaps his paranoia was, once again, getting the better of him. It doesn’t matter now either way.

“It’s so good. It’s -- it’s more than okay.” He doesn’t even know where to begin articulating the depth of his emotion right now, so instead he continues to movements of his hand along his boyfriend’s back, and then he gently shifts his chin so that he can press their lips together in a warm, delicate little kiss that’s not meant to be anything more than exactly what it is. He’s so full.

[isaac-day-blog]

@cammomile: do you ever have the urge to call your boyfriend peaches? because same.

@definedfaith: @cammomile 🙈 🍑

[isaac-day-blog]

eviegdi.

“What’s with toddlers and phases where they get obsessed with animals? Like, I get that some of the first words we teach kids are that the dog goes bark and the cat meows, but should that really inspire an entire preoccupation with running a rabbit farm out of one’s apartment? I don’t think so. But hey, if anyone has a pet rabbit, I know of a small child who would absolutely love to come visit.”

“Rabbits are so unsanitary. Tell her to get a cat, at least you can stay on top of the stink they make.” Isaac says, voice level and relatively unaffected. Usually he supports everything Brookie is interested in, but there’s something about rodent-like creatures (even if they aren’t actually rodents) that he doesn’t particularly fancy. It’s apparently too tough to get past.

[isaac-day-blog]

sms to satan.

EVIE: don't go to your work come to mine. keep me company.

EVIE: is this a new development? am i supposed to be surprised?

ISAAC: i mean no you're not

ISAAC: but like it's a particular, fiery sort of hatred today that i cant handle

[isaac-day-blog]

sms to satan.

ISAAC: sos i dont want to go to work today

ISAAC: also i hate everyone

[babymicks-blog]

[x]

[isaac-day-blog]

tinycameron.

Closer. It’s like he can’t breathe without being reminded of how close Izzy’s moved. And he loves it, prefers it, even – when Cams gets like this he needs to be smothered in closeness and not given his space like perhaps others who suffer from the same anxieties. With his boyfriend’s nose brushing along the planes of his face, not shying away from the tears Cams is trying desperately to blink away, he knows that Izzy’s there. He’s not going to leave. He’s there.

Moments like these revive the concept of soulmates for Cameron. He knows both of his exes might have told him not to apologize, especially considering the lack of context for the murmured syllables. Realistically, Cams has nothing for which he should feel sorry. He’s not done anything to Izzy, at least and apologizing to himself wouldn’t be voiced aloud.

Izzy must be Cams’ soulmate because he lets him make no sense.

Cams clings to Izzy’s front, reveling in the closeness of their faces and the warm strength he feels at even the simple statements. “It’s a little less okay,” he whispers with the most minute of nods. Because he wants to tell Izzy how he’s really feeling, what he’s going through. It’s harder to recall the darker moments of his days when things are brighter with his boyfriend surrounding him so completely.  

He blinks and the tears that wet his eyelashes remind him. “Saw him again today. He… he makes me feel like a kid again.” Plenty of people use the phrase fondly, affectionately. Cams does not. “A shy, scared little kid, desperate for approval.” His voice peters out, losing momentum. He just wants to sag, to relinquish the tension he holds in his limbs. Izzy allows him that freedom so he crumples bonelessly into his chest with a shuddering sigih.

Izzy wishes he knew better what to do with everything that he’s being given. He wants Cams to unburden himself, to loose his limbs and sink into him and let his body surround him, and he wants to be his safety, his sanctuary, everything that keeps him from bruised elbows and shaking hands. He just doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know. All he can do is hope that whatever he gives him naturally, whatever comes naturally past the way he shoves down his own insecurities, his own fear and paranoia, is enough.

Because it has to be.

“Sweetheart...” The pet-name falls naturally from his lips, dripping warmth over him like liquid affection, and he’s pressing his palm between Cams’ shoulder-blades, smoothing a path over his spine in slow, soothing motions. It’s repetitive, and he’s aiming to make it comforting as well, because he feels that right now his words might fall a little bit short of everything he needs to offer him. They usually do. Actually, he usually does, but he’s working towards changing that. For him. Always.

Lips still linger at his eyelashes, wet little things that dampen his skin, and he feels when he blinks like feather-soft whisper-kisses that make him shiver. He holds his position, and he holds Cams, and he keeps them together through sheer depth of emotion alone. “He has no power over you.” Izzy figures the more they say that, the more it’ll sink in; it’s perhaps the one method that makes sense to him, or maybe it’s just the one method he’s got. He hasn’t seen Jake in weeks. He thinks he’s gone.

That’s okay. That’s good, even. He knows how to cope with abandonment. It’s easy. Easier than what he was coping with before.

Now he can focus on what really matters.

[weirdbuzzfeed]

[isaac-day-blog]

tinycameron.

Although he cannot put it into words nor express it audibly, the fact that Izzy tucks him in closer instead of pulling away means so much. He can’t remember a time when his lover has pulled away from him and isn’t sure what he’d do if ever he tarnishes that spotless record and ruins them to that level. And the blame would be entirely on him because he has every faith in Isaac Day – he’s never been more sure of anyone and the way he’s enveloped so surely now, proves it. He’s also never been more aware that he is not magnificent; he’s not deserving and he couldn’t possibly hold onto something this good for as long as he would like.

Forever, he thinks absently with a dull ache in his chest. He wants Izzy’s forever. 

There’s a secret whispered into the silence that’s thrumming between them. It is both what Cams isn’t saying and what Izzy doesn’t ask – it’s embodied in the returned touch to the red, purple, and blue twisting patterns that cover knobby joints, nothing but endlessly gentle. But then he’s being touched other places and it feels like his skin is being purged. Where only hours ago, Aiden had been brushing over the bruise marks and making Cameron feel small, Izzy’s fingertips are spreading him out again, allowing him to take up the perfect Cams size space where he lays beside his lover.

He’s unfurled and curled close simultaneously, deep, shuddering breaths being taken and given back to the dip of a collarbone. His hands move, then, clutching onto Izzy’s shirt like a tether, like without the touch, he might dissolve without a trace. He wishes things were as simple as the very first time he was pulled into Isaac’s lap. He wishes it was simply a belligerent tenant causing a momentary panic attack that could come and pass within the matter of a few days. Today is not a good day.

Cams can’t remember the last time they both laughed.

His grip tightens, desperation seizing his actions. He feels the urge to say something, to fill the gap, to breach the chasm, to chase out more of Isaac’s soothing drawl. “Sorry,” is all that comes out with a watery creak, lashes becoming wet with each blink. As though to make up for his onslaught of emotions, his hand slips to gently press over Izzy’s heart. Feeling it beat – feeling it beat for him – staves off the tears. For now. Oh, he loves him so dearly.

Izzy thinks they’re swallowing things again. They used to do it, he remembers, when things were complicated in different ways, with different parties involved, and with different limitations. Now he just doesn’t know what he can say without making it bad, and what he can ask without making it crumble. He’s trying not to be selfish any more, not after that breakdown he let himself indulge in, but it would be a lot easier if he knew where the lines were drawn between what he is, and what he needs to be. So he swallows, and Cams swallows, and they will keep swallowing until they figure it all out, he supposes, no matter how difficult it is to keep it from coming back up.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to laugh. He does.

Sorry comes Cams’ reedy voice, and it’s comforting even though he doesn’t understand why he’s apologising. He does understand the waiver in it, though, and he certainly understands the dampening of his lashes when he tilts his chin down, the tip of his nose brushing over his eyebrow, and then making a home against the dark circle beneath his right eye. He can feel them there as he slowly exhales, and his arms wrap him up just that much closer. He can cry if he needs to. Izzy would never say that he can’t, or that he shouldn’t; he’s had far too much of that in the past.

“It’s okay.” He says instead, his own tones very stable, though laden with a particular sort of heaviness that comes with a depth of emotion he isn’t sure how to describe. He doesn’t think he wants to describe it. They are whisper-soft, and they are bone-tired, and he can feel his eyelashes remaining against the tip of his nose, he’s so still. “I... I hope it’s okay? I hope you’d tell me if it weren’t.”

[isaac-day-blog]

tinycameron.

He’s at peace here next to his Izzy. He’s been getting home earlier and earlier from the library, Mort giving him the morning shifts for the week. So he’s taken to midday napping or just curling up in bed with a book until Izzy gets home. These soft moments may be part of a routine but that doesn’t mean he’s in any sense used to the tenderness that floods his whole being, lighting him up with life where every other moment of his day seems gray.

A shiver slips into his veins at the touch, a guilty feeling swooping in his stomach at the brushing of gentle digits over his still puffy elbows. Cams forces that feeling down though, focusing instead on the warm, engulfing presence of Izzy’s embrace and the way he can turn over and tuck into the space where he fits perfectly. Cams needs these touches; they make the anxieties ebb away and put warm fields of wildflowers in their place.

He wants to say it back; he wants to allow the moment to be nothing other than soft and lovely. They’re officially boyfriends; he loves his boyfriend. Instead, what leaves his lips is a needy whimper and he’s pressing his face more firmly into the column of Izzy’s neck, breathing in his perfumed skin. The soft pants against his collarbone are his I love you too; he just hopes Izzy understands. Today’s not been great.

Taking a deep inhale, h smells like the boutique, a hint of kitten, and mostly home. Cams very much wants to stay there a while.

The whimper is not lost on him, and neither is the tone it carries. Izzy thinks that he could read the sound of Cams’ voice even if he were asleep, or even if he were miles, miles, miles away; even if he couldn’t reach him. But he can, and they’re close, and he has to do everything possible to help him know that. To help him feel it in every inch of his body, sinking into the cavity of his chest and the spaces at the corners of his mind where he still wants to live. There’s something off about today, and something off about a lot of days, and something about the way Izzy hasn’t cried in weeks, but he swears he means it.

Anything else words have a will to make is swallowed back, thick in his throat, and the feeling of breath over his skin scatters goosebumps. Ask about the bruises, his mind whispers, and then DON’T, it shouts, and he’s stuck between two opposite reactions that have his fingertips dusting against tender skin once more. They linger only briefly before guiding upwards towards his shoulder, the curve of his neck, where he rests his palm comforting and warm. Green eyes are on his boyfriend’s face, searching, seeking, though exactly what for, he’s uncertain.

He wants to kiss him all-at-once, and bury his body beneath his weight, and bury himself inside of him, and keep him with arms to back and face to neck and chest to chest, and he doesn’t want him to hurt. Izzy can tell he’s hurting, and he needs to save him from it. He just lays there, and he listens to his breathing, and he lets himself have a little more time to try to make sense of it. 

[isaac-day-blog]

caspartho.

“I don’t… I don’t think my friend wants to invite any of that. Those things are definitely not invited. The hospital is obviously the first choice, it’s just.. y’know, if someone who’s just about to graduate will do it for waaay less.. it’s so tempting.  But you’re right– debt before death. All things considered, this is too much work for some teeth that don’t even do any good.” 

“No shit -- I had mine removed when I was, like, a lot younger, so it’s whatever, but still. I can’t imagine having to deal with that now. I wouldn’t be able to feed my cats. Or my shopping habits.” There’s a delicate shudder to follow up the last statement, fear flickering over his features. That would be terrible. “Maybe we should really get going on this business. Charge for paranormal investigations.”

[isaac-day-blog]

Sleepy, sleepy eyes, sleepy boy, sleepy limbs. Everything just feels lethargic right now, and for some reason, Izzy can’t seem to shake himself out of it. He actually worked today, albeit only for a few hours, and his mood has been subdued since the moment he walked back in through the doors of Marlborough. It’s like something just came over him, making his body feel heavier, and his movements impossible slow. 

Now he lays on his side, and he looks at Cams, and his gaze keeps drifting down his arms, and he has noticed, but he doesn’t know how to ask. His tongue is thick, and he struggles to make his thoughts cohesive. In the end, he just finds himself snuggling closer, delicately wrapping his boyfriend into an embrace reserved solely for him. If his fingertips drift feather-light over bruised elbows, then that’s the only indication of his curiosity, even if only for the moment.

“I love you.”

He just wants to say it.

@tinycameron.

[isaac-day-blog]

caspartho.

“Hypothetically speaking– would you let someone who’s still in med school do surgery on your mouth, if it meant you got a huge discount? I have this, um.. friend, who needs their wisdom teeth out, and they can’t even afford to put gas in their car to get to work so they can afford to put gas in their car. Life is ironic that way…” 

“I mean... Hypothetically speaking, unless your friend is inviting a shoddy job, infection, and probably sepsis, I don’t think it’s a very good idea to let anyone outside of a hospital perform surgery. The money thing is understandable, it’s just like -- better debt than death, you know?”

[isaac-day-blog]

Do the people in your life bring out the best in you?

“I mean -- in some ways, yes? I don’t know what the ‘best’ me is. I don’t know. How do you ever know that?” In Isaac’s opinion, he’s shit in every manner.

[isaac-day-blog]

If you could be the most influential person in the world, what would you change?

“I would change the way homosexuality is perceived through religion. I don’t think God would want us to be so hateful. I can’t think that.”

[isaac-day-blog]

how do you think your boyfriend feels about you apparently rekindling things with your ex? maybe he'll do the same in turn to even out the playing field.

“if he believes that shit, then maybe he shouldn’t be my boyfriend in the first place.”

[isaac-day-blog]