Jan 15, 2018
@eteritlux liked your post:mutuals, like for a starter
A specter stands over a bed that once upon a lifetime belonged to him, along with the auburn hair that spreads over the pillow, the rosy lips that part for those small, dainty intakes of air, the blood in his veins, the organs, the beating heart--all once his and no one else’s.
Light wants to slap him.
The twenty-eighth approaches and the fallen godling is in no mood to allow this fool boy his beauty sleep. In his ear, Light hisses a demand.
“Wake up.”