PINNED AGAINST THE WALL ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ █ ▌▌▌@bonesugar.
accepting.
[ WHISPER ] because personal space is momentarily forgotten when you finally pluck him from so many, many would be . . . replacements ( oh she hopes not! ) alchemist. meetings are terrible, aren't they? so forgive her for the brazeness when she whispers, ' would it be alright if we go and leave?' to only the proceed and clarify that she is most certainly not ordering him too!!! she means her- her! she wishes to leave! socializing is hard ( says the one breathing his air )
DOTTORE minty blue hair shifts; smooth curls that tumble into his face as it dips to the side & down to witness her simple plea. the brook of another’s insistent demands & the snort of rejection to meet it; the stale smell of an inability to be inspired -- ...they are drab company. perhaps, he is a tad too partial to the girl, but it’s hard not to favour such easy company.
rarely does èmile have time for the bustle of another’s thoughts. when he does, all that sharp deduction turns to the jut & curve of body’s many languages / the silent proclamation of the exact depth of her blush / the twist & turn of her little footsies.
the way her eyes can seem so devoid of intentions
despite the terror dome beyond them.
( it’s so fucking silly that she cares so much, & it
makes him gooey in places that carve a hunger
out of themselves. at the sight of her eager analysis
of every single thing to pass his lips...
he’s never
not been hungry before. )
“well, i- just don’t think that’s-”
“doctor? what do you think?”
“really? rude.”
“...”
such a valuable thing ought not misunderstand itself. what, does he seem an imbecile? no. all the passion that twines through & around her core / makes of her a transcendence in slow motion. something to witness in full, every facet passing by at a pace to be adored — & adoration is a complete dissection ( + the autopsy it will necessitate ).
...bit embarrassing to start waxing poetic in the middle of a meeting with slow minds, though — so she’s grabbed by the back of her collar & dragged up alongside his abrupt rise.
“doctor?!”
“see? hah! it’s such folly he doesn’t even have time for it-”
a little stumble / the flare of impatience / her weight in his arms. “tuck your head & knees in.” so they may pass through the door at record speed.
fuck this,
fuck that,
time for the labs.
“read your journal. you didn’t finish your argument on page 304 regarding-” with unerring accuracy, he rattles off the many digits & consonants of her latest written fascination. it appeared to have been abandoned in a hurry, so there was certainly more.
a little jostle of her small form, warm & compliant. “do it now.”
don’t know how to tell her she matters, but. suppose she’ll have to figure that out for herself.
she’s the mind for it.
