THE DYING BOY

        ❝ I’M NOT EXACTLY SURE. ❞ which was the truth, he searches and searches but does not expect to find anything there --- perhaps that is what makes what he sees all the more beautiful. gaze flickers back to the other, studies the way his body moves and the clear ACHE in his shoulders. study lingers on the bat for a long moment before he finishes his drink and sets the glass next to his feet, looking up at the night sky. ❝ so are you going to tell me what’s with the bat, or am i going to have to guess? ❞

        EYES NARROW FOR A brief moment, he’s not sure if he believes him --- but it wasn’t his place to make accusations. instead, the artist hums softly and takes another drink of the whiskey he had in his hand, relishes as the burn falls down his chest. sometimes something so small makes him feel so alive. ❝ sure. ❞ is his only response, a small smile curling at his lips. he looked like shit, much as matthew knew he appeared on many occasions. ❝ i am trying to find inspiration, grasp at the will to live --- you know, the usual. ❞