an audible sigh follows his frame down to the open chair, refusing to make eye contact upon initial greeting. godfrey deposits his iced americano onto wrought iron, sweating drink to remain 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 for the remainder of the afternoon.
"forgive me. i wanted to look perfect for you, baby."
sardonic tone dies out in a mumble. the man scoots his chair in closer, taking up most of the bistro table. he tries, without much effort, to conceal the agitation crawling under his skin. inner cheek is crushed under the weight of molars, SQUEEZING until he feels a pop of relief. the decompression is almost instant. the godfrey boy can breathe now and the fresh air burns.
"seth was going through our itinerary for the week and sitting through it made me want to fucking kill myself. decided i'd rather spend my time with someone i actually ... can be around."
@laidbear / . . .