the march winds were either chilly and carried the weights of a thousand hopefuls that winter would soon come to a close, or they were warm and carried the sun’s most blessed kisses. as lars stood out in the crowded streets with nothing on but a pair of pistachio green tights, pistachio green pasties (shaped like shamrocks, obviously), and a pair of emerald earrings that matched his stilettos, he felt the latter embrace him.
basking in the glow of the sun as it shone through the occasional cloud or two, lars allowed his eyes -- covered in pistachio green eyeliner and eyeshadow, of course -- to bask in the sights before him. matrons and whores, businessmen and young ingenues, and churchgoers and sinners were all gathered under the same sky. breathing in deeply, the boy smacked his lips and raised the first of many drinks to come to his lips. then, because he saw a vaguely familiar figure, he stopped short and felt his lips curl with the memory of a night he would have preferred to forget.
“dr. mateo!” he called out from behind his glass of green-tinted beer. when the man turned, he raised his glass and offered him a wink. “ready for round two? i promise not to throw up on you... i mean, unless that’s something you’re interested in.”
closed starter for // @crimsxns
