&&. i swear to you

; —— i am longing for your poison, like a cancer for its p r e y. shot an arrow, in your harbor where you waited in the R A I N.

[tinycameron-blog]

@definedfaith: @cammomile 🙈 🍑

@cammomile: @definedfaith 🍑💕

[tinycameron-blog]

@cammomile: do you ever have the urge to call your boyfriend peaches? because same.

[rainbowbirds]

[grayccle-blog]

Gray doesn’t know who Cameron’s boyfriend is, but he can only hope that the answer to that question is a resounding yes. Lord knows, if it was his loved one with bruises like these, he’d sure as hell be worried. He barely even knows this kid, and he’s got more than enough concern for him – his boyfriend should, too. Probably best not to say it quite that way, though. Word it a bit differently in the hopes of not worsening the boy’s anxiety any. “I think he’ll be a bit concerned, yes. But only because he cares about you, and I can’t imagine he’d like the idea of you being in pain,” he comments, offering a tentative smile in the other’s direction. “Would you… like to come inside, maybe? I can make tea or coffee, or whatever takes your fancy, and you can inspect those bathroom rails I was talking about,” it’s said in a gently playful tone, trying to lift the spirits of the conversation if only a little. 

[tinycameron-blog]

It sounds about right -- Izzy’s the type of boyfriend who wants to singlehandedly take away Cams’ pain. It’s very sweet and makes Cameron feel validated in his suffering while also completely supported for the duration of time they get to spend together, tucked away from the world. He kind of wants that now, to just collapse into a bed and wrap himself up in his Izzy’s arms. The thought draws him out of the present moment enough so that he’s blinking owlishly at Gray at the invitation. Tea? Coffee? For once, it appears that Cameron’s not completely failed at the small talk of standard social interactions and he’s actually being invited someplace instead of left to his own devices. “Yeah! Um, I mean, that’d be... it’d be nice. Tea, please?” he answers, taking every word seriously despite the light tone that may imply otherwise. He genuinely would spend a day inspecting bathroom rails if it meant the chance for a conversation with someone outside his friend group while, simultaneously, drawing him away from another chance encounter with Aiden.

[tinycameron-blog]

@cammomile: for the record, I would definitely help my angel cover up organized crime

@cammomile: wait, can tweets be used against you in court?

@cammomile: [has deleted two tweets]

[kianhassan-blog]

He’s just getting off from his shift at the bar, and he’s far more than a little tipsy. By some miracle, he’s made it almost the whole way home with only a few stumbles, a scraped knee and a scuffed boot. The worst part, perhaps, is the fact he was working the afternoon shift today, so the sun is barely even setting as he graces the entrance of Marlborough apartments with his presence. He lowers himself down onto the steps out front, feet propped against the concrete and numb limbs fumbling to open his baccy tin in the vain hopes of rolling a cigarette. He should probably go straight up to his apartment and sleep it off, but his head won’t shut up – it just won’t, even with the amount of alcohol currently flooding his system. He’s been doing the math, he’s been figuring things out for himself, and now he’s left scared and drunk and not thinking straight at all. He barely recognises the sound of approaching footsteps, and if they’re talking to him, then he misses what they say. Maybe they didn’t say anything at all, and that’s just his head again. It takes a lot of effort to open his eyes (he didn’t know he’d closed them), and he just can’t find the will to look up at them yet. Maybe they’ll go away if he pretends they’re not there. 

[tinycameron-blog]

He’s not trying to pass judgement. In fact, he’s only really trying to carry his bag of pet products up the front steps and into Marlborough’s doors. The thing is, he’s got slender arms full of goodies and he’s not exactly beauty and grace to begin with so it’s a struggle, especially since Boots and Beanie are growing and also selfish (the former more than the latter) therefore in need of more things than usual.  His struggles have him calling out for help, a soft beckoning of “could you grab the door please” seeming just polite enough to not imposition the stranger should he choose to ignore his neighbors plight. Such seems to be the case as no move is made to get to his feet, no response is given to his request. Cameron’s gaze squints, focusing on the figure with curiosity instead of scrutiny. He’s able to recognize something like incoherence in the fellow resident which spoke to, perhaps, an issue far beyond Cameron’s own issue with doors and bags of cat goodies. Boots and Beanie are worth the awkward skip in his heart as he tries again. “Please... I can’t grab this myself. My arms are f-full...” He sort of hopes this stranger has a pet; maybe then he’ll relate and assist. 

[isaac-day-blog]

Izzy wishes he knew better what to do with everything that he’s being given. He wants Cams to unburden himself, to loose his limbs and sink into him and let his body surround him, and he wants to be his safety, his sanctuary, everything that keeps him from bruised elbows and shaking hands. He just doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know. All he can do is hope that whatever he gives him naturally, whatever comes naturally past the way he shoves down his own insecurities, his own fear and paranoia, is enough.

Because it has to be.

“Sweetheart…” The pet-name falls naturally from his lips, dripping warmth over him like liquid affection, and he’s pressing his palm between Cams’ shoulder-blades, smoothing a path over his spine in slow, soothing motions. It’s repetitive, and he’s aiming to make it comforting as well, because he feels that right now his words might fall a little bit short of everything he needs to offer him. They usually do. Actually, he usually does, but he’s working towards changing that. For him. Always.

Lips still linger at his eyelashes, wet little things that dampen his skin, and he feels when he blinks like feather-soft whisper-kisses that make him shiver. He holds his position, and he holds Cams, and he keeps them together through sheer depth of emotion alone. “He has no power over you.” Izzy figures the more they say that, the more it’ll sink in; it’s perhaps the one method that makes sense to him, or maybe it’s just the one method he’s got. He hasn’t seen Jake in weeks. He thinks he’s gone.

That’s okay. That’s good, even. He knows how to cope with abandonment. It’s easy. Easier than what he was coping with before.

Now he can focus on what really matters.

[tinycameron-blog]

It’s amazing, to Cams, how three people can use pet-names in his life and have them mean completely different things. With Aiden, babyboy meant control. Looking back on it now makes his spine tingle and the air threaten to leave his lungs -- it had been a power play that he’d mistaken for love and adoration. With Arsen, it had been sexual, whispered into the shell of his ear to make Cams tremble in a way much different to Aiden’s demands for submission but still just as charged.

With Izzy, Cams is still shivering but it’s not out of weakness nor out of arousal (not that he’s not felt that particular sensation around the ethereal being he’s lucky enough to call his boyfriend, though). His tremors are out of pleasure, a comforting heat pushing away the chill of dread and chasing it to his extremities. He’s Izzy’s sweetheart and its possessive without the power play; he belongs to by choice.

The touch speaks where words do not, could not. The knobs of his spine are massaged so they ache less, his whole frame easing into the repetition and slackening against Izzy’s chest. It’s almost like the embrace of a warm blanket -- his favourite blanket, even -- and he lets his eyes fall closed, still pressed close enough to have his lashes tease Izzy’s plush pink lip. Hearing it aloud, hearing Izzy acknowledge Aiden so openly, helps in its own way. Speaking about it at all helps and makes him feel less guilty about the bruising, about the secrets of his own wretchedness he’s keeping locked away.

“I love you.” It’s a whisper of a breath between them but he’s saying it back. A little late, a little soft, but he’s still saying it. 

“I... I told him what we were. That’s okay, right? I told him I have a boyfriend.” It had been a minor victory at the time but here, with his voice creaking and his body close to trembling, it feels even more important. It feels like he’s giving back to Izzy who’s taking such good care of him. He’s proud to be Izzy’s, proud to have Izzy be his. Pride and insecurity, evidently, mingle very unstably for Cams.

[museinspo]

lehanewrites:

he looks at him and sees everything he’s ever wanted.

he looks at himself and sees nothing he deserves.

[grayccle-blog]

The last thing Gray had wanted was to make the other feel self conscious, and he’s feeling bad for it the moment he realises that he has. “No! No, they don’t look awful, just– just painful… I’m really no stranger to bruises, and I’d hate to see anyone in pain,” it’s true that he often finds bruises on himself where there’s no real reason for them, and though they don’t particularly hurt, he knows that a normal bruise should. He also knows from experience how it can feel to have someone calling out your appearance based on an illness, which isn’t at all what he’d meant to do here, but he feels he may have stumbled into that territory anyway. “Honestly, if you hadn’t of pointed them out, I probably never would’ve noticed,” not necessarily true, but they are on his elbows and it isn’t as though Gray tends to inspect there on every acquaintance he happens to bump into. From what he can remember of his last meeting with Cameron a week or so ago, he’d seemed quite fretful and anxious then, so maybe that’s the trend here and Gray hasn’t necessarily been the complete cause for it. Still, he wishes he could better help to soothe him. 

[tinycameron-blog]

He keeps his eyes trained on the mottled skin, not wanting to look up to visualize the worry he can definitely hear in Gray’s voice. It’s not misplaced -- he supposes, backtracking or not, the injuries do look pretty frightening on the surface and he’d hit the ground hard. Cammy allows him his moment before lifting slightly unfocused blues onto the features of his current companion. “Okay...” he agrees after a long pause, hands dropping back down to his sides. “I just...” he’s kinda hit the wall when it came to things to say without belaboring the point and he flushes at his own inability to converse normally. He supposes he could blame it on the crackles of anxiety he feels constantly flickering in his peripheral senses. Maybe him and Izzy could move? “My boyfriend’s gonna be so worried,” he whispers first before repeating it, a bit louder. “If you’re worried, I bet he will be t-too, huh?” It’s not exactly the best conversation prompt in the world but he’s trying.

[aidenwest]

Hearing him say that this guy was his boyfriend shouldn’t have concern Aiden the way it has. In their last interaction Cammy hadn’t put a label to it which was a benefit for the dominant, it meant that what they had between them was still in the yellow, the unknown. Suddenly now, however, there is a label slapped upon their relationship, and things are apparently real. There’s no turmoil and it sets Aiden’s teeth on edge. Keeping his inner conflict to himself and expressing no emotion about the matter whatsoever, he continues to brush his thumb tenderly across the dark colours on Cameron’s skin. “Ah, maybe you should babe. It’d be a good idea. Can’t have you injured again now can we?” Aiden pauses for a moment to return his gaze to Cammy’s delicate facial features. “But I still can’t understand how you fell on both your elbows.. Is your shower big enough to have you fall right back or?” The more he thinks about it, the more suspicious it sounds and Aiden is going to pry, obviously. It wouldn’t be Aiden if he didn’t.

[tinycameron-blog]

He chances a brief flicker of a smile, inwardly praising himself for taking at least the small step towards asserting his independence by labeling his relationship in the presence of his ex. It seems minuscule in comparison to the daunting task of proving how much better off he’s doing but it’s a step at least. The next step ought to be pulling his arms away from Aiden’s gentle touch but that makes his anxiety prickle and his lungs feel tight. Displaying anything that could be seen as physical dominance isn’t in Cameron’s realm of expertise. “I’ll be more c-careful,” he murmurs, keeping his gaze down on Aiden’s hand for a beat longer in contemplation. There are questions and Aiden’s fishing for something. What that specific something is Cammy doesn’t understand but it makes him nervous all the same. His throat feels arid and he swallows a few times uselessly, a sour taste in his mouth. Cameron’s not the best liar in the world, evidently. Or Aiden really does know him better. “I... it was more slipping out of the, um, the tub. Got a bit caught in the c-curtain and ended up on my back. Spooky stuff.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug and uses the gesture to pull his arms back to himself, instantly folding them over his chest and cupping hands delicately over his bruises. “I’ll survive, ‘m sure.”

[isaac-day-blog]

Izzy thinks they’re swallowing things again. They used to do it, he remembers, when things were complicated in different ways, with different parties involved, and with different limitations. Now he just doesn’t know what he can say without making it bad, and what he can ask without making it crumble. He’s trying not to be selfish any more, not after that breakdown he let himself indulge in, but it would be a lot easier if he knew where the lines were drawn between what he is, and what he needs to be. So he swallows, and Cams swallows, and they will keep swallowing until they figure it all out, he supposes, no matter how difficult it is to keep it from coming back up.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to laugh. He does.

Sorry comes Cams’ reedy voice, and it’s comforting even though he doesn’t understand why he’s apologising. He does understand the waiver in it, though, and he certainly understands the dampening of his lashes when he tilts his chin down, the tip of his nose brushing over his eyebrow, and then making a home against the dark circle beneath his right eye. He can feel them there as he slowly exhales, and his arms wrap him up just that much closer. He can cry if he needs to. Izzy would never say that he can’t, or that he shouldn’t; he’s had far too much of that in the past.

“It’s okay.” He says instead, his own tones very stable, though laden with a particular sort of heaviness that comes with a depth of emotion he isn’t sure how to describe. He doesn’t think he wants to describe it. They are whisper-soft, and they are bone-tired, and he can feel his eyelashes remaining against the tip of his nose, he’s so still. “I… I hope it’s okay? I hope you’d tell me if it weren’t.”

[tinycameron-blog]

Closer. It’s like he can’t breathe without being reminded of how close Izzy’s moved. And he loves it, prefers it, even -- when Cams gets like this he needs to be smothered in closeness and not given his space like perhaps others who suffer from the same anxieties. With his boyfriend’s nose brushing along the planes of his face, not shying away from the tears Cams is trying desperately to blink away, he knows that Izzy’s there. He’s not going to leave. He’s there.

Moments like these revive the concept of soulmates for Cameron. He knows both of his exes might have told him not to apologize, especially considering the lack of context for the murmured syllables. Realistically, Cams has nothing for which he should feel sorry. He’s not done anything to Izzy, at least and apologizing to himself wouldn’t be voiced aloud.

Izzy must be Cams’ soulmate because he lets him make no sense.

Cams clings to Izzy’s front, reveling in the closeness of their faces and the warm strength he feels at even the simple statements. “It’s a little less okay,” he whispers with the most minute of nods. Because he wants to tell Izzy how he’s really feeling, what he’s going through. It’s harder to recall the darker moments of his days when things are brighter with his boyfriend surrounding him so completely.  

He blinks and the tears that wet his eyelashes remind him. “Saw him again today. He... he makes me feel like a kid again.” Plenty of people use the phrase fondly, affectionately. Cams does not. “A shy, scared little kid, desperate for approval.” His voice peters out, losing momentum. He just wants to sag, to relinquish the tension he holds in his limbs. Izzy allows him that freedom so he crumples bonelessly into his chest with a shuddering sigih.

[grayccle-blog]

“I had to get grab rails fitted to mine – you should look into it, they’re a life saver. Literally,” he chuckles quietly, brushing his hand over his jaw and the slight stubble that’s begun to form there. He really should shave, but his hands haven’t been very steady as of late, and he’d rather not risk cutting a nice big scar into the side of his cheek. Maybe he’ll have to ask his sister to help him out when she next comes round, though he knows she’s busy. Maybe he’ll just grow a beard. “Those bruises look painful, though. Have you had them checked by anyone?” probably not, considering the costs and where they live, but it’s always better to ask than to assume. 

[tinycameron-blog]

“You know, that doesn’t sound like too bad an idea. My boyfriend might be a little confused but I’m s-sure he’d help me out.” Now that he’s labeled it, it’s almost as though Cameron can’t stop saying the word. It’s a lot less scary coming out to near-strangers when he’s got a boyfriend as lovely as Isaac. “They’re, I mean, it’s not so bad.” The person stood before him looks far more worse for wear though Cammy would never dare say as much. He’s hardly in any position to be complaining about a few banged up bones. Has he gotten them checked out? Yeah, by my ex. He wants to respond in a monotone, the chilling encounter still fresh in his mind. Instead of unloading his personal baggage onto the kindly unassuming stranger, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “No, I guess I -- do they really look that awful?” He’s a bit fretful now, turning a worried gaze down onto the swelling of reds and blues.

[isaac-day-blog]

The whimper is not lost on him, and neither is the tone it carries. Izzy thinks that he could read the sound of Cams’ voice even if he were asleep, or even if he were miles, miles, miles away; even if he couldn’t reach him. But he can, and they’re close, and he has to do everything possible to help him know that. To help him feel it in every inch of his body, sinking into the cavity of his chest and the spaces at the corners of his mind where he still wants to live. There’s something off about today, and something off about a lot of days, and something about the way Izzy hasn’t cried in weeks, but he swears he means it.

Anything else words have a will to make is swallowed back, thick in his throat, and the feeling of breath over his skin scatters goosebumps. Ask about the bruises, his mind whispers, and then DON’T, it shouts, and he’s stuck between two opposite reactions that have his fingertips dusting against tender skin once more. They linger only briefly before guiding upwards towards his shoulder, the curve of his neck, where he rests his palm comforting and warm. Green eyes are on his boyfriend’s face, searching, seeking, though exactly what for, he’s uncertain.

He wants to kiss him all-at-once, and bury his body beneath his weight, and bury himself inside of him, and keep him with arms to back and face to neck and chest to chest, and he doesn’t want him to hurt. Izzy can tell he’s hurting, and he needs to save him from it. He just lays there, and he listens to his breathing, and he lets himself have a little more time to try to make sense of it. 

[tinycameron-blog]

Although he cannot put it into words nor express it audibly, the fact that Izzy tucks him in closer instead of pulling away means so much. He can’t remember a time when his lover has pulled away from him and isn’t sure what he’d do if ever he tarnishes that spotless record and ruins them to that level. And the blame would be entirely on him because he has every faith in Isaac Day -- he’s never been more sure of anyone and the way he’s enveloped so surely now, proves it. He’s also never been more aware that he is not magnificent; he’s not deserving and he couldn’t possibly hold onto something this good for as long as he would like.

Forever, he thinks absently with a dull ache in his chest. He wants Izzy’s forever. 

There’s a secret whispered into the silence that’s thrumming between them. It is both what Cams isn’t saying and what Izzy doesn’t ask -- it’s embodied in the returned touch to the red, purple, and blue twisting patterns that cover knobby joints, nothing but endlessly gentle. But then he’s being touched other places and it feels like his skin is being purged. Where only hours ago, Aiden had been brushing over the bruise marks and making Cameron feel small, Izzy’s fingertips are spreading him out again, allowing him to take up the perfect Cams size space where he lays beside his lover.

He’s unfurled and curled close simultaneously, deep, shuddering breaths being taken and given back to the dip of a collarbone. His hands move, then, clutching onto Izzy’s shirt like a tether, like without the touch, he might dissolve without a trace. He wishes things were as simple as the very first time he was pulled into Isaac’s lap. He wishes it was simply a belligerent tenant causing a momentary panic attack that could come and pass within the matter of a few days. Today is not a good day.

Cams can’t remember the last time they both laughed.

His grip tightens, desperation seizing his actions. He feels the urge to say something, to fill the gap, to breach the chasm, to chase out more of Isaac’s soothing drawl. “Sorry,” is all that comes out with a watery creak, lashes becoming wet with each blink. As though to make up for his onslaught of emotions, his hand slips to gently press over Izzy’s heart. Feeling it beat -- feeling it beat for him -- staves off the tears. For now. Oh, he loves him so dearly.

[paytonssimons]

The silence is deafening. His sad smile heart breaking. Her body reacts to how sad he seems before anything, a undeniably sharp pain striking straight through her heart. He’s broken and Payton is willing to do anything to help put the pieces of him back together before it’s too late. The extreme thought of losing him crosses her mind for merely a second and her body crumbles, hunching just slightly as he steps forward into her body. She’s always been known to think of worst case scenario. Her slender arms around his neck act as a form to glue, attempting to hold him together to the best of her abilities and her own torso curls just slightly so she can hold him tighter without constricting his airways. But it’s the sound of his watery voice that has Payton’s eyes squeezing shut, shuffling backwards into her apartment and reaching forward to shut the door with her fingertips.

“I know it is…” She pauses, her tone of voice tender and almost in a whisper. “But you are strong and you get push through this. Things will be okay, it will look up soon… I’ve got you.” In her eyes Cammy is strong, and she knows that he can get through this with the help of those around him. For him to have gotten through what he did with Aiden and then Arsen demonstrates that. Obviously there are parts of each other’s lives they don’t know about, but Payton knows enough to make a fair statement of his growing strength. Her fingers delicately thread through his hair, alternating between gently massaging at his head and stroking his hair soothingly. “Did you want to talk, love? I’m all ears. Always will be.” She tilts her head down to press a kiss to the top of his head, her free hand subtly pressing him into her to keep the hold somewhat tight. She doesn’t want to let go of him just yet. 

[tinycameron-blog]

Cameron feels like a lot of things as he stands, quaking, in Payton’s arms, and not a single one of them is strong. If he were strong, he wouldn’t be on the verge of a panic attack, turning up on his best friend’s doorstep. If he were strong, he wouldn’t need to rely on his already precariously balanced partner, whose own emotional turmoil he feels inept to absolve. Cammy isn’t strong but he damn well wishes that he were so things could stop being bad and start being oh so gloriously good again.”What if things aren’t okay?” he counters, the brokenness in his voice making it sound foreign even to his own ears. She doesn’t pull away from the fearful weight of dread in his tone. He’s grateful she doesn’t pull away. “What if things are never okay? What if it stays like this?” He wishes he could be more specific; he wishes he could define the tight feeling that constricts his rib cage when he so much as steps outside of his apartment or put words to the unsettled ache in his heart when Izzy’s own anxieties prickle at his senses.

He wants to talk -- it’s why he’s come over here in the first place -- but he doesn’t know what to say. There’s a strange feeling of guilt mingling with the sadness and the closeness to breaking that crawls along his spine. It’s ridiculous to feel guilty for his experience with Aiden and yet he knows that if he’d not allowed it to happen then, this wouldn’t be happening now. He’d be stronger, for Izzy. Things wouldn’t feel so cold. “I think I just want a c-cuddle. And maybe some tea? If you have it...” he sniffles; the threat of tears seems unrelenting in the corners of his eyes. It’s begging him to give in to the panic swelling in his slender chest, displacing his heart, his lungs, all the vitals he needs to live.

[aidenwest]

As soon as his elbows are on show, Aiden’s examining them, reaching and taking his arm without a second thought. His touch is gentle; he doesn’t want Cameron running away from him that’s for sure. He’s hard up trying to get a hold of him as it is. “Yeah, silly.” The pad of his thumb brushes against the coloured skin, his eyes diverting from the bruise for a moment to attempt to make eye contact with Cammy. “I don’t think you heard me, but I asked if you’re alright.” Aiden needs an answer. He keeps a hold of his former flame’s arm, waiting for an answer that he will deem appropriate. 

[tinycameron-blog]

It’s very much not his place to be touching his sore spots so tenderly and crooning little quips of affection his way. If Cameron were a stronger man, he’d shake him off entirely and maybe give him a verbal lashing that would cut off this strange nostalgic tie that seems to continually bring them into one another’s space. The mottled skin tingles under Aiden’s fingertip, more of a memory of an ache than a current one and he heaves a heavy sigh. Shoulders lift in a noncommittal shrug; that’s an easier answer, isn’t it? “I’m all in, um, one piece. Just have to be more careful. Maybe me and --” There it is again. There’s an active decision to be made and one he felt he’d failed the time previously. “My boyfriend and I will have to go shopping for those... sticky floor mats?” His heart’s beating in triplicate but he nods with more sureness than he feels.

[isaac-day-blog]

Sleepy, sleepy eyes, sleepy boy, sleepy limbs. Everything just feels lethargic right now, and for some reason, Izzy can’t seem to shake himself out of it. He actually worked today, albeit only for a few hours, and his mood has been subdued since the moment he walked back in through the doors of Marlborough. It’s like something just came over him, making his body feel heavier, and his movements impossible slow. 

Now he lays on his side, and he looks at Cams, and his gaze keeps drifting down his arms, and he has noticed, but he doesn’t know how to ask. His tongue is thick, and he struggles to make his thoughts cohesive. In the end, he just finds himself snuggling closer, delicately wrapping his boyfriend into an embrace reserved solely for him. If his fingertips drift feather-light over bruised elbows, then that’s the only indication of his curiosity, even if only for the moment.

“I love you.”

He just wants to say it.

@tinycameron.

[tinycameron-blog]

He’s at peace here next to his Izzy. He’s been getting home earlier and earlier from the library, Mort giving him the morning shifts for the week. So he’s taken to midday napping or just curling up in bed with a book until Izzy gets home. These soft moments may be part of a routine but that doesn’t mean he’s in any sense used to the tenderness that floods his whole being, lighting him up with life where every other moment of his day seems gray.

A shiver slips into his veins at the touch, a guilty feeling swooping in his stomach at the brushing of gentle digits over his still puffy elbows. Cams forces that feeling down though, focusing instead on the warm, engulfing presence of Izzy’s embrace and the way he can turn over and tuck into the space where he fits perfectly. Cams needs these touches; they make the anxieties ebb away and put warm fields of wildflowers in their place.

He wants to say it back; he wants to allow the moment to be nothing other than soft and lovely. They’re officially boyfriends; he loves his boyfriend. Instead, what leaves his lips is a needy whimper and he’s pressing his face more firmly into the column of Izzy’s neck, breathing in his perfumed skin. The soft pants against his collarbone are his I love you too; he just hopes Izzy understands. Today’s not been great.

Taking a deep inhale, he smells like the boutique, a hint of kitten, and mostly home. Cams very much wants to stay there a while.

[aidenwest]

A slippery when wet sign in the shower? Well that’s something he’s never heard of before. “Isn’t it common knowledge that it’s slippery in the shower babe?” He probably shouldn’t have added babe on the end of that, but he did and there’s no turning back down. “What, did you fall back and land on your elbows or something? Are you alright?” It’s sincere, yet kind of not. He does have care for Cameron otherwise he wouldn’t have prolonged the conversation, but something is just a little suss. He thought his ex was more coordinated than that.

[tinycameron-blog]

Cameron makes note to look before he speaks. It might prevent him from mindlessly babbling to the ex boyfriend he’s trying to avoid, next time. He feels belittled within seconds, his attempt at half-humor falling flat and being completely forgotten, the heat of embarrassment coloring his cheeks instead. “Um... probably. I slipped this morning and, well...” He turns his arms over, palms downward, so the swollen bumps of his elbows could do his speaking for him. No, he wants to add. I’m not alright. But Aiden isn’t the one he’s going to turn to. He’s about the last person he even wants to see. “Silly me.”