tainted by touch.

ti doesn't really have the best track record with men over & that seems like something that isn't going to change  soon. his guard is up & his demeanor cold as he continues to evade all the questions throw his way. he's silent mostly save for the brief appearances of his silver tongue. 

                  ❝—what? i don't know anything. can i just go?

 he was obviously not old enough to be in a bar which explained  why he was in the alley. ti seemed back at it again with the old  vices, chasing the same thrills. it was a repetitive cycle and he  knew it, his name might as Sisyphus since kicking this habit  seemed just as futile. with dry lips & a slouched position he  waited out the bar exit—waiting for you. it took a while but  finally you came out with a couple of 'urgent' texts. 

                  ❝—h-hey. how are you? 

                ( his lips twitched, stretching a rubber band                  smile: one that's too wide before it quickly                  diminishes.  )

the middle of the road wasn't the best place to be but he was content in his position. the road was deserted for the most part & that fact would probably be his poor justification for laying there. the real reason was simply that he was overwhelmed & when overwhelmed he had a habit of just shutting down. he would sulk, slump & in this case: lay down. he just turned his cheek, pressing it against the tarmac feeling the faint sting of pebbles digging to his skin, the sun on his face. his keen eyes locked on a train of ants, matching in formation. he hummed to himself, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. that indulgence in the moment allowed him to ignore the other sounds of his environment of light footsteps.

                                                               ❝—?

                                               ( sucks. it's not a car. )

❝—what happened to your face?  

        ti wasn't really one to be subtle. his unwavering stare, with blue eyes             lit with concern. his eyes flickered over the nicks and scraps that              were spelling out the sign that there was need to worry. his lips             pressed together and forming a line as hard as the furrow of his              brow. he wanted to jet his hand out to touch—to offer something              tender to his friend but his fingers, some sort of comfort but he             restrained himself.   keep fiddling with the inside of              his pockets.

❝—if something happened & you don't want to talk about it fine—no, that not fine but you know. i'm not going to force you 'cause that would be prying. prying is bad. pushing is bad. i'm not pushing. i'm just saying just don't pretend like i can't see & make some excuse? if you don't want to talk don't, just don't lie. please.

he was goofing around with a condom—truly the embodiment of maturity in this moment. he was content with blowing it up like it was a balloon. he was delicately tying the end when he spoke, more to himself than to his company.