@jfctravis
he wishes he could say he has never been in this situation before, but it is far from his first debacle on the highest ( climbable, that is ) branch right outside travis’ window; one would think that after seven times -- no, that after the first time -- he would have learned to use the door by now, you know, like a person, but that one would be sorely mistaken. “steady, steady...” he coaches himself in staggered breaths as he inches closer to the glass, heart racing in his chest as if it’s his first time; for him, it always is. when he reaches the window he holds the outside frame, pressing his face against the glass obnoxiously and just waiting for travis to notice. he will, eventually. he hopes that eventually is soon, though, because his backpack is seeming heavier and heavier. dirt clings to his face, his hands, and his jeans and he prays that he’ll just turn around already. he makes fishy faces ( as well as an assortment of other awful faces ) against the glass in the mean time. so what if it’s one in the morning?
