#-1c

[fidgetspringer]

Can safely say that i might have had the most interesting Crufts viewing experience.

[ambiguousdisorderken]

It’s winter and Credence has been living with Graves for a while now. He has a room to himself, with a bed bigger than any he’s ever seen, far cozier than the cot he had when living under Mary Lou’s roof. There are blankets and more pillows than he’ll ever need, and he is warm despite the snowflakes falling outside.

Unlike every morning he isn’t alone. Credence glances at his side, and there, within arm’s reach is Graves. He came to his room in the dead of night when Credence was having a nightmare, and Credence asked him to stay. He didn’t want to be alone. His demons would only torture him further. He needed to see Graves. To feel him. Close. So they slept together, with heads resting over feather pillows looking at one another, not caring if the space between was too small, breaths mingling, heartbeats ringing so loud in unison. Graves fell asleep first. His eyes tired around the corners, a slight furrow in his brow, lips tightened a bit.

Credence finally drifted off seeing the rise and fall of the man’s chest, his lashes fluttering every once in a while, dreaming perhaps, seeing things Credence couldn’t.

And now the sun has awoken, bleak and muted, a bright, blurred spot in the grey skies, and Credence is looking at Graves as he wakes up. The man turns a little, shifting closer, head lolling over the pillow. His hand comes to rest near the shadow of his jaw, and then he’s making this sound, this groggy, moan-like sound that makes Credence’s heart beat faster, makes him want to reach the man if only with the tip of his fingers, to touch him, to make sure he is real. He is here, right next to Credence. In bed. Vulnerable. Alive. Human.

Graves opens his eyes as if the light is too dazzling, as if the sun itself was staring back at him, and those dark, almost black eyes are glassy and slightly puffy and red, heavy with sleep, and then there’s a soft curl of his lips, tentative, unsure, but oh so very honest and pure, and as the man breathes out a raspy ‘good morning’ Credence believes he’s found, at last, the place where he belongs.

[tracce]

where's Hermione to produce one of those portable flames for me 

sigh

i love student house heating systems...