#correspondance;

Very sincerely yours, Sherlock Holmes

Gasping in faux-concern, Luke sits up from his lounging position on her bed. He loved making himself at home no matter what the situation. Like he owned the world-- and maybe he did. What a fitting trait. "Le jaune? Qui a les fleurs bleues? Vous pouvez certainement pas gâcher cela." Easing back against the pillows once he'd fluffed them for himself, he smirked again and crossed his long legs. "C'était un cadeau. Il serait impoli de le colorer. Même quelque chose d'aussi joli que le sang."

Wetting the tip of his forefinger with a flash of tongue, Luke turns the page in his magazine just as his brother makes his presence known. Perking up at the voice— and the nature of his brother’s request, Luke forgets about the magazine and tosses it over his shoulder. “The mansion, huh? We haven’t gone in a while. You need playtime, little brother? Feeling a little antsy?”

There was something so soothing about silence. It had become a necessity in Luke’s life, ever since he started to really think about things. After all, wasn’t there so much to think about?m a r k                                          l i l y                                                                   the   u r g e s                         f   m   l                           a   i   y                                         m                                                                                  u                               blood…                                                                                     r                             BLOOD…                                                                                       d               BLOODBLOODBLOOD                                                                                          e                      B L O O D ! ! !                                                                                             rBLOODRAGEBLOODHURTBLOODTORTUREKILLBLOODMAIMBLOODBLOODBLOOD                                                                                                                                                                                                                It’s precisely why he needed these moments.Moments where he would curl upin his king size bed with the luxurious egyptian cotton sheets and his paradisiacally blue eyes would glare holes into the wall furthest from his bed and he would just………………………………….think.But the familiar trill of his twin’s voice brought him crashing back to reality in a comfortably sobering way. Mark had that affect on him.                                                     Just   when   Luke   would                                                     be a million, trillion, billion                                                     miles away mentally, Mark                                                     would yank their figurative                                                     tether, pulling  them back                                                     to their most natural state—      together.Glancing towards the doorway, Luke’s passive face lit up with sheer contentment. “I don’t know why you bother to ask that question anymore. Shouldn’t you have learned by now that my answer is always going to be the same? No, Mark. I don’t mind. C’mon, plenty of room.” Patting the bed next to him, he felt centuries of tension ease from his shoulders.He wasn’t sure why Lily insisted on them having separate bedrooms. As far as he was concerned, if they shared a womb they could share a room. One of them eventually found their way into the other’s bed most nights regardless of walls or doors. You couldn’t keep a mirror from reflecting, it was silly to try."I sleep better when you’re next to me." Luke confessed as an afterthought while scooting from the center of the bed and divvying up the mass of down pillows.                                    The only thing better than silence, was Mark.