@ruthlessiism ❤️’d for a starter.
tristan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change, casually glancing at elliot every now and then in the periphery of his vision. he felt refreshingly light -- as if he weren’t polluted what that heavy-empty feeling that typically consumed him. that was the best part of a high, he supposed. not feeling how sad you actually are. the light changed, and the car lurched forward, his fingers still drumming as he sang along to the song they were listening to. “et chaque soir que je m’endors et te cerre contre moi...” it was nice to have the blond around without having to lie and sneak out at some overwhelmingly large event. to have it be something simple that they didn’t have to explain to anyone else. “hear me out -- i say, fuck manhattan, let’s drive out to my dad’s place in the hamptons. ‘cause no one’s there, so.” he said the last word as if that explained everything, as if that justified leaving the city (where there were things to do) and driving three hours to visit an empty beach house.