Cute [ xxiv ]
h2ovanoss fic - punk!pastel! highschool au warnings: emotional scene, mental breakdown, “broken” character, hurt/comfort, mentions/recount of hate-driven violence. 4915 words part twenty-four
24.
It took ten minutes of Lucas’ silly giggling and persuasion until Jon gave in, tugging off his own clothes to be replaced with whatever Lucas shoved in his direction. Each time Jon pulled something off, he turned away. Lucas with his head in the closet never took notice and continued piling clothes on the bed or on the floor, chatting away like nothing had changed.
He’d dropped at least fifteen closet jokes before an hour had passed and had put together three proper outfits for the week. Their playing around had lead to a bit of distraction, Lucas throwing any random outfit he could find at his friend. He dressed him in every style possible with his choices and never stopping smiling and laughing at the mess they created.
There was a disorganised pile of “throw away” clothes that Jon no longer wanted and by the time Lucas got back on track for the last two outfits for the week, the two were laughing like there hadn’t been a single thing wrong to begin with. No bruises. No disappearing. No silence.
It was alright. Jon was alright! That’s what Lucas told himself until Jon was sitting back on the bed. He turned around with a cropped hoodie and a pair of high-waisted jeans for the boy to consider, a fourth outfit for the week ahead.
Jon’s face fell. “No crops,” he said and Lucas frowned.
“But you look so cute in them? Your tummy will also be a distracting feature from the makeup, y’know!”
The atmosphere dulled and the grimace on Jon’s lips told him bad news was imminent. “Not a good idea.” Pale fingers lifted the baggy shirt Jon had pulled back on and Lucas kicked himself for not noticing the small habits of discretion. Turning away when undressing even though they’d spent days hanging out in only underwear in the past, pulling shirts down even when they showed nothing, moving slow when bending at the middle or straightening back up.
The skin of his stomach wore the same colouration of his throat and in his shame, Jon dropped his shirt quickly. It didn’t do much. The image was stained to the insides of Lucas’ eyelids. Blue, purple, yellow, green. The smudges screamed agony.
They were more than just bruises. They were more than just the wounds of an ugly incident. They… Those who put them there put them there for a reason. There was purpose beneath every layer, beneath every hateful touch that aimed to bring nothing other than pain and grief and suffering. ‘Ugly bruises’ were the scars of torture, scars of a hate-driven beating. No guy could deliver such agony by himself and it chilled Lucas’ breath to think of his dear friend in such a situation.
Jon was always the happiest of his friends. He was someone who would find the most ridiculous presents for birthdays and sing karaoke of songs he’d never heard before just for the sake of making other people laugh and smile; just to be comedic. Any time anyone had tried to bring him down, he didn’t find it hard to completely ignore it or make it into some stupid joke. No one could touch him. No one.
When people were homophobic he laughed in their faces. When people tried to get to his friends he’d defend them with loud words and dumb jokes. When his friends were sad it never took him long to bring them back up with smiles on their faces and laughter on their tongues.
He was that kind of guy.
So to see him so… so broken…
Lucas blinked himself out of his thoughts, his friend adjusting his shirt anxiously and tipping his head down to hide his face.
“O-okay, that’s okay,” he choked out, turning back to the closet and tucking the hoodie back away where it no longer could be seen. He pulled out a bright yellow one, turning back and holding it up. “How about thi-”
Jon’s lip trembled. Blue eyes spilt tears down his cheeks, no strength left to restrain them. A sob escaped his broken throat. “I-I’m so-orry,” he rasped, unable to swallow his sobs down.
The hoodie was forgotten.
“L-Lou?” Jon hiccupped into his shoulder, mattress sinking as Lucas crawled up to him and wrapped him up in his arms. With careful pressure, he sat back and pulled Jon between his legs. That was all it took for those splintered walls to crumble. Thin fingers found fistfuls of Lucas’ shirt, black eyes closed and hiding in the safety beneath his chin.
His tears were hot and salty. They didn’t stop, catching on his collarbones as his hold around Jon’s frame tightened. “Don’t you say sorry once,” he said, gritting his teeth and willing his own emotions back. He wanted to be strong for Jon, he needed to be strong for this boy he’d call a brother. It just wasn’t possible when someone so untouchable was shattering in his arms. “Don’t- Don’t you fucking apologise, okay? You hear me?”
It felt similar to trying to hold a glass pane together with bare hands, having Jon break down, sobbing into his chest. Keeping him together, keeping him in place; it was far too little, far too late.
Four days.
Four days had Jon been sitting in this bedroom, cradling a broken body and hiding a broken soul. How long had he spent crying? How long had he spent blaming the skin beneath each bruise for causing pain to his friends, to his moms.
Lucas couldn’t bear it. He’d spent too much time alone, too much time breaking, too much time taking blame for his own suffering. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong, okay? Listen to me, Jonny; you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did!” Fingers were tight around the curves of Lucas’ shoulders, trying to get a grip on himself. Deep breaths, shaking as they rolled down Lucas’ neck with his tears. Deep breaths of, “You have to understand.” His forehead was heavy beneath Lucas’ chin. “I-I could have done s-s-something other than- than sitting here-”
Sob after sob crashed through the body against his chest. They shredded Jon’s words before they even left his mouth, doing anything to stop their escape. He didn’t have a voice. He wasn’t allowed a voice.
The first tear that slipped down Lucas’ cheek was both one of pain and one of pride. A week Jon had spent suffering in total silence in hopes of protecting his friends and now, as he crumbled against Lucas’ chest he fought to break that silence and try to explain himself. He was offered comfort, and love, and help, and how easy it would be to turn away and hide? Even broken and battered and beaten, he was stronger than that. He had always been strong. He was still strong. Lucas knew that.
Yet Jon saw his thin body and bruised skin as weak and pitiful and disgusting. He saw a mess that hid and a mess that could have done something more. He was blind. “You can’t think like that,” Lucas tried, but soft hair brushed back and forth along his jaw as Jon shook his head stubbornly.
“I have to!” He willed Lucas to see his words. “I… I’ve hurt you g-guys so much. I’ve… I’ve ignored you an-and just made you all worried and sa-ad. B-because I wanted to hide.” He spat the word with hatred, pollution on his tongue he couldn’t bear to taste any longer. “I’m s-so ffffucking pathetic.”
Arms around him tightened, Lucas’ face turning down to bury in his hair; hair that grew damp. “Don’t say that.” Jon shook his head. Lucas rocked back and forth slowly, arms painfully tight around his friend. It no longer mattered the dull pains on his outside. Nothing compared to his collapsing ribs and offbeat heart. He was broken. “Don’t fucking say that to yourself!”
“It’s true-!”
“Shut up, Jon!” Lucas drew his hands back, pushing Jon away from him and holding him at an arm’s length. Two pairs of eyes, shiny with tears. One bore cracks far too deep to heal. “Look at yourself!” His words were barely whispered. Disbelief. Shake of the head, tears no longer countable. “You don’t think you’re allowed to be hurt? You- You don’t think you’re allowed to hide!?” Jon shook his head harder, eyes closed as he tried to keep himself in. “Let yourself fucking cry!” A voice-crack. A soft whine. Jon gasped in a short breath, eyes quivering when they opened. Lucas’s hold on his arms tightened. “What did they fucking do to you?”
Jon didn’t look away from him. His blue eyes held a mix of different edges of pain. Hatred for himself, for his skin, for his voice. Agony of what his skin wore, of the tattooed words that ran through his head every day, spoken from those awful tongues. Loss of pieces of himself, shards of glass buried in carpet. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t control his thoughts or feelings, the shaking of his hands, his breath, his unsettled heart. He shook his head, face crumpling as he tried his best to bite back the pain.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, hands grasping Lucas’ shirt again in hopes to stop their shaking. “Th-they…” Inhale. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be drawn closer and accepting the forehead coming to rest on his shoulder. “There were three of them. A-and… It was Kyle, he-… he broke my b-bow an-and-” Fingers tightened around cloth, teeth biting split lips until they bled “C-called me slurs… m-made fun of you guys, an-and made fun o-of Evan too… H-he-” A whine left his lips, words running out. He only had so many. He turned his face into the side of Lucas’ head, hair against his closed eyes and tight lips.
Lucas held him.
“I’m here.” Running a hand up and down his back, pressing a hard kiss to his shoulder. “I’m here for you.”
“H-he punched me. F-ffface, throat, tummy; h-he hit me so many times- Th-they didn’t s-stop and… fuck-” He choked out a sob, stopping and holding himself still. He pushed on. “I wa-alked home. A-and didn’t t-t-tell anyone… I fffucking hid from everyone!”
The anger returned, hot and spiteful. Lucas shook his head.
“I did!” A sniff. A yank on his shirt. Listen to me! “I d-didn’t text anyone for days an-and made you guys w-worry about me and- and- and look at me; I’m a fucking mess. I’m selfish and st-stupid and-”
“Jon, please.”
“-I’m not even strong enough to- to text you and t-t-tell you that I’m okay, I’m weak!”
“Jon…” Lucas whimpered.
“I made y-you worry, and Brock and E-Evan and- and everyone! I didn’t let Mom help ei-ither and they were f- ffffighting over me being such a- such a fucking bitch about it. I let them beat me up and w-walk away and- and it would have been better for everyone if I had- had just f-fuckin’-”
“Jon!” Lucas shouted. His voice silenced Jon’s, sobs overtaking his tongue, dragging themselves up and out of his throat over and over again. They threw his broken body forward and forward, face falling to hide in shame. “Don’t you fucking say that. Don’t you ever fucking say that again. I…” His breath was shaking, drawing back and pulling Jon to his chest once again. Lips to Jon’s hair he gathered himself. “You’re the strongest person I know, the most resilient person I know. If this didn’t break you? Fucking Hell, Jon, you’d have to be ice-cold. They tortured you, Jon-”
“I-it’s not that bad-”
“Look at yourself! Look at these bruises, how many fucking times did he hit you?” A shake of the head. Lucas softened. “You hid to protect yourself, to protect Alice and Ri, to protect us! How does that make you weak? You’re a fuckin’ idiot for trying to fight this on your own but that’s the absolute opposite of weak, Jon. That makes you so strong! You’ve always been so fucking strong!”
His collarbone was slick with tears, Jon voicelessly shaking. The only sounds he made were small sobs, feeling them roll through his body like waves.
“No one had any idea what you went through and still, no one is upset with you.” Lucas’ own shaking calmed. He felt it pass over, feeling control come back to him as he collected himself. He swayed slowly back and forth, Jon curled up in his lap holding onto him like it was his last option, like if he let go he would lose everything. “We love you. Brian, Brock, Suni and Craig? Scotty and me? We all love you so fucking much, okay? Nothing will change that. Nothing can change that, nothing’s strong enough.
“You’ve been hurt really bad. And it hurts to know that but it hurts more to know you’ve been keeping it all locked away in yourself and slowly burning yourself to death with this blame. It will hurt them to know too! But you know they will be here for you in a second; any one of them would be doing this, holding you and saying what I’ve been saying if they were in my place.”
Slowly. It was slow and gradual, like the tide lowering again. His sobs lessened, quietened. They no longer plagued each breath or ripped from his throat. The grip of his fingers on Lucas’ shirt found a subconscious relaxation. They held on but not so tightly. Blood flowed.
“I love you so much, Jonathon. So fucking much, okay?” He ran a hand through the boy’s hair, feeling him sniffle, tears still flowing. “You mean the world to me, and more, and you’ve been through so damn much. Listen to me, okay?” He trailed his hand up and down Jon’s back. “You’re gonna come to school tomorrow, make up’s gonna hide most of it and I’ll steer you away from hassle. Do you want to tell the others?”
“Not yet.” A quiet whisper, timid but reaching for calmness.
“Okay. Well I’ll help you brush off any questions. You’ll wear these cute ass outfits, strut your stuff and make Evan cry about how hot you are, and just get through the day.” Slow nodding. Lucas continued to rock back and forth, fingers dragging through unkempt hair. “Stay with someone at all times; they’ll still be at school. Keep an eye out. Spend time with Evan because you know he won’t ask questions and he’ll also kick ass for you.”
A little huff of laughter. Lucas smiled.
It took much longer for his tears to stop than all the rest of it but they did. Lucas trailed off talking about what he should do with Evan, and how once the bruises were faded they should all get together – punks and pastels – and go swimming in Brian’s pool. Jon’s bruised eyes left trails of salt, skin tingling where tears had left tracks, but dry. When Jon crawled out of Lucas’ lap, he found another two outfits and set them all aside for Jon. They put on music for the last half hour and Jon couldn’t avoid Lucas’ cheerful pull, dancing with him and laughing until the tears were something forgotten.
It was all a part of healing. That’s what Jon was doing. He spent half a week trapped away with only himself and his bruises and he had a week ahead of him to see his friends and surround himself with their love and care.
It was all healing.
When Lucas left, he hugged Jon tightly, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hands. “I love you,” he promised his friend a million times over, avoiding the dismissive laughing and pale-handed swatting until he had his friend murmuring the same words back into his chest. Jon left him at the top of the stairs and made Lucas promise to call him the moment he was home from his date, before Lucas locked himself out and rushed home, pink hoodie under his arm.
-
The hoodie looked perfect with the jeans, a bit warm beneath the sun but snug and comfy for the cold of the ice-skating rink, Lucas knew. His hands were warm in little gloves, black and soft to touch both inside and out. It was a fact that he looked cute, something he was aware of and happy about but not an asshole.
His Momma had raised him on self-love and he found no reason to reject it.
But no matter how cute, he couldn’t help feeling nervous.
He found John waiting outside, leaning against the wall in ripped jeans, a black hoodie and a longer white shirt underneath. The sun was warm on Lucas’ back when he hurried across the parking-lot but he barely noticed it the second pale eyes landed on him, lips lifting in a slight but genuine smile at the sight of the boy.
Lucas totally didn’t trip over the curb in his hurry, not at all too busy gazing at the punk to watch where his feet were. Thankfully, it wasn’t mentioned when he was within speaking range of his date, smiling shyly at the knowing twinkle in pretty pale eyes.
“Hey John,” he said, putting far too much effort in keeping his voice stable and smooth. The punk pushed off the wall, tucking his vape pen into his pocket and not bothering to hide the way he dropped his eyes down Lucas’ legs and back up to his shocked face. “Huh?” Self-conscious fingers itched at rosy cheeks.
A quirk of teeth-worried lips and eyes sparkled, reading the words across Lucas’ chest. “The hoodie’s cute.” Tone confident and lazy; John didn’t let the moment linger, glancing over his shoulder to the info-board and bright blue name of the ice rink. Those pale eyes returned to Lucas and dropped to the two white boots he held onto. “Not gonna lie; didn’t expect the ice rink.”
Was it a mistake? Did he not like it? Lucas felt worry creep into his thoughts, running a hand through his hair. A timid nod.
“Well,” he said, tugging his fingers through his long hair, “I’ve never been skating in my life. So expect the worst.”
“I’ll help you.”
Lucas’ eyes held eager hope and John’s were sceptical. The punk huffed a sigh but his teasing smile remained. “Yeah, we’ll see. Ready then?”
Rings were cold between Lucas’ gloved fingers and he lead John into the lobby of the rink. The familiar wave of cold air washed over the two of them and a smile lit his face. Childish excitement he couldn’t help. “Good morning!” A cheerful voice and an old face, familiar too. When distracted eyes lifted from a computer screen they widened with recognition and joy to see the two boys standing at the desk. “Lucas? Honey, it’s been so long!” she cooed and brown eyes fell in bashful greeting.
“Hey Aggie, how’ve you been?” he asked, the woman looking overjoyed just to see his face. He pushed thirty dollars onto the counter and she tapped away on the keyboard.
It was like his appearance had taken ten years off her age and Lucas felt a warmth in his chest to see her again. “I’ve been lovely, dear! I’ve been good. How are you? Is this your boyfriend? He’s so handsome, so very handsome!” And just like that, his cheeks were pink and the hand in his felt even warmer.
Lips parted to correct her didn’t get their chance. “It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am. My name’s John.” Voice smooth and gentle on the ears. Old grey eyes filled with adoration and Lucas directed a surprised glance up to the boy beside him, receiving a warm smile in return. He didn’t question it.
“I’ve been good. Though I’ve missed skating and I wanted to show John my second home.” His humour held truth, known by all three of them as the woman reached up, taking his hand when he put down his skates and offered it to her.
“Well, good thing we’re having quiet hours, hey? This session will go for an hour, but how abouts you two stick around? You can have an extra thirty minutes to yourselves on the ice if you’d like. I owe it to you, love; no charge. Only the promise that you’ll be back again soon.” Her words were hushed, others in the room not caring for their discussion.
The fingers curled tighter in his and Lucas couldn’t drown the glow of his smile. “Aggie, are you sure?” Her hasty nodding didn’t need much else, squeezing his hand with two of hers and lines of age crinkling with her sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much,” he said and she nodded again, placing the tickets in his hand and letting him go.
“You boys go in. Have your fun and keep it PG with the kids in there.” Her wink was teasing and a light-hearted giggle left her lips at Lucas’ red face.
“We will, Miss. Thank you.” John spoke for him, tugging Lucas to the door. They shared a smile, one shy and one reassuring. Excitement buzzed between their locked fingers.
Once sat on a bench, one pair of professional skates and one pair of rented ones before them, Lucas breathed in deeply. Adoration for the place swelled in his heart, fingers automatically loosening his laces as his dark eyes scanned the room. The lights were bright overhead, the boundary of the rink freshly repainted. The benches had been moved around, colour of the mats changed from green to blue. The small changes here and there didn’t make much of a difference. Everything his gaze fell upon was a reminder of his childhood. Even the smell of the artificial ice had his heart fluttering.
John watched him, eyes gentle. Silence. Comfortable. The young look on the pretty boy’s face was hard to turn away from. Then Lucas dropped his gaze to the boots. Gloves reached for John’s, easily and speedily unbuckling them and opening them up. He didn’t need to instruct the punk who mimicked him in fitting his feet into the heavy shoes.
Lucas broke the silence, words soft as he watched John stomp his feet up and down in the unbuckled boots, toying with the weight. “So, boyfriend, hey?” The cold air kept his delivery smooth. John didn’t look phased, meeting Lucas’ stare with a small twinkle in his eye.
“Guess we’ll have to see how today goes.” A simple, nonchalant comment that even the icy rink couldn’t save Lucas from.
His whole face lit aflame, turning away at the feeling of his heart slamming against his ribs.
He decided that maybe just not acknowledging John’s comments was the best way to go.
The laces of his boots were thick, slipping between his gloved fingers. They cradled his feet snugly when he stood, rocking from side-to-side carefully to make sure they were fitted right. Even just having the skates back on his feet gave him a sense of nostalgia and anticipation fluttered beneath his skin at the thought of being out on the ice.
“Having trouble?” he offered, kneeling in front of the punk and giggling at the bewildered look on his face. His hands were already on the rented shoes and tightened the plastic buckles. “You tell me if they get painful or uncomfortable and I’ll fix ‘em, but they’ve gotta be tight so you don’t damage your ankles, got it?”
Slow nodding, eyes a mix of somewhere between blue and green glancing at the rink which already held a couple of kids. Not a single one looked older than the age of ten. “Is this one of those things where it’s way harder than it looks?” His date bit his lip, hiding a knowing smile behind a shrug.
“You can decide that. C’mon, it’s been too long since I’ve been on ice,” he breathed, loving the taste of cold on his tongue as he grabbed John’s hands. “Be careful, don’t take big steps.” John’s weight was vastly unbalanced as he wobbled to his feet, shuffling after Lucas who walked backwards with ease. His smile didn’t leave his face, squeezing those hands. At the door, John was looking positively worried, an odd expression to see on the punk who wasn’t usually one to show anything more than indifference. “Don’t stress. There are five-year-old’s, you’ll get it fine.”
He stepped in first, gliding back a little bit and still holding onto John as the punk took a cautious step forward. “Woah.” He snatched up Lucas’ other hand once again, other skate on the ice too as he wavered dangerously. “I’m gonna fall.”
“No you’re not!” A giggly laugh spilt onto the ice as Lucas carefully glided backwards, bringing them away from the entrance. John didn’t lift his eyes from the ice, posture rigid and terrified. “Okay, calm breaths. Here; hold onto the sides.” Shaking hands dropped to the bar that ran along the edges of the rink. “You wanna keep your knees bent and stay a bit forward. If you lean back, you’ll fall, okay?” Lucas demonstrated for the boy, squatting a little to exaggerate his words and shifting his balance back and forth. “Feet apart too. The closer they are together the less balance you’ll have. Trust me.” He showed the punk how to angle his feet.
His mini-introduction went on for a few more minutes, explaining how to move and turn and stop to make it easier for the boy. All the while, he continued sliding back while John shuffled forwards after him, hands heavy on the support bar.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this.” John gave a shaky smile to Lucas. “M’not this coordinated.”
Lucas stopped the boy with open hands, sliding forward into his space. “John.” Careful as to not worry his date, he leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, lingering and holding him steady by his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ve got more than an hour. You’ll get used to it and we’ll get you skating soon, okay? Just keep comin’ around the edge until you’re used to the ice.”
Concentration too high for words, he received a short nod and smiled. The punk was breathing noticeably slower, seeming calm.
“Relax,” he urged, tapping John’s chest until his shoulders loosened and his posture no longer mimicked a metal rod. “I’m gonna go for a couple of laps and get used to it myself, is that alright?” he offered, wanting to get his energy out but not wanting to leave John feeling unsafe.
Pale eyes rolled, feigning confidence that Lucas knew he didn’t have. “I’ll be fine for five minutes, dumbass. Go have fun.”
He flashed a grateful smile before spinning on his skates and pushing off. A wobble accompanied his balance, getting used to the slippery ice as he weaved between kids and adults, movements swift and easy. He followed the curves, crossing his legs over gracefully with one hand tucked behind his back.
The smile on his face went unnoticed by him for the few laps he sped around, dancing on his skates as everything came back to him. Icy cold touched at his lungs, each breath filling them with chilling air. Any stress or worry washed out with it and he couldn’t help falling in love with each glide. His circuit shortened with each lap, coming to circle the few in the middle that practiced spinning and twirling away from the other skaters.
It had been a long few years. That was for sure. But it felt like nothing had ever been missing as he glided back to the boy he adored, the boy who watched him with an unreadable expression.
“Sorry,” he breathed as soon as he was beside him. It was automatic to take one of his hands, slowly gliding backwards while drawing the other forward along the rail. “I haven’t been here in years.”
John’s smile was nothing less than content as he shook his head. “Wow, you really are Canadian.”
That earnt a scoff and rolled eyes, Lucas dropping the hand he held. “Fine, I’ll just leave you here.” A childish pout, he turned and slid forward as if leaving his date.
“N-no! Don’t leave me!” John blurted out and Lucas beamed, glancing back.
“No?”
A wobbly smile, concentrated brows furrowed as he tried to glide towards Lucas as smoothly as possible (not very smoothly at all). “I’m sorryyy,” he whined, Lucas not saying a word as he waited. John’s hands were gentle, grabbing onto his arm and stopping himself from falling flat on his face.
It was curious to see John acting a little different, face showing his indiscreet concern for himself. He wore more of his personality in his voice, something Lucas loved to see. It was personal; more than Lucas was used to seeing at school.
It was pretty.
John was pretty. Lucas knew that. Lucas thought it a lot, really; especially when looking at the punk and seeing the prettiness in his split lips and eyes that looked different colours each time he looked into them.
The overwhelming want to kiss the punk filled his thoughts and he bit each one back. He was content with the hands in his, seeing the smile on split lips and vulnerability in pretty eyes.
For now, he was teaching John to skate. Anything else? He could wait.
-
parts: [ i ] - [ ii ] - [ iii ] - [ iv ] - [ v ] - [ vi ] - [ vii ] - [ viii ] - [ ix ] - [ x ] - [ xi ] - [ xii ] - [ xiii ] - [ xiv ] - [ xv ] - [ xvi ] - [ xvii ] - [ xviii ] - [ xix ] - [ xx ] - [ xxi ] - [ xxii ] - [ xxiii ] - [ xxiv ] - [ xxv ]
art credit: @pastel-trashtel
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note: yo! back from camping. i, uh... sorry? about the first part of this one?? but i mean, you’re welcome as well because you may hate me for it but dont deny you loved seeing lucas being the literal best human being alive and poor jon deserved to have a good breakdown.
all will be okay. a few more sad bits? but he’s healing <3
my sweet boy. gonna pretend i didnt start crying when writing this scene, and also i didnt start crying again just now while i was editing it.
you have no proof
i hope soft krii7y times help you wipe away your tears guys. im tryna fix this shit pls dont hate me.. hate kyle :D
i’ll see how i go writing in the next week. i’ve er..... got a lot to do...... that i probably wont do...... but my next job is to finish this h2ovanoss angst request, then c.25, then another request so we’ll see how everything goes, okay? i’ll hopefully be posting one thing or another next weekend ^^
thanks for your patience! hope you enjoy! let me know what you’re enjoying most about it all!
gi