❝ would you still love me if i was a seaweed? ❞
✦ HE'S SURE HE'S BEING TEASED, but there's a profound disgust attached to the word seaweed that makes his beautiful face pull into a grimace. he thinks, ew, and his traitorous parietal lobe conjures phantom sensations to torment him with — being drooled on by a stranger, yuck, stepping into something soggy and viscous while wearing socks, yuck, the thrilling SPLAT! of a seagull high-speed shitting in a spot he had just vacated — fucking yuck! all this, for the somatic horror of kelp on his foot. teddy has suffered most bastardly throughout his life, clearly.
“and the whole world wonders about your inner machinations,” he says, still wearing an expression of terminal distaste, “you know i die waiting for these nuggets of your darkest fears,” then, before it can sting dupois' high and taut pride: “no, i would not love you if you were seaweed, because you would not get turned into seaweed in the first place. you're too smart for that.”
that came out a warning. “aren't you. you are.”
