They stood together, unwilling to sit on the seats after that sort of weather, shivering slightly in the nearly-empty carriage. It was quiet, and neither of them spoke, or attempted to break the silence, but as they headed towards Michael’s stop, Gerry let their hands brush in the small space between them. It was only a small touch, and by his logic, it shouldn’t have been romantic. His hand was cold, and Michael’s was oddly damp.

But it was. It felt good. It felt right.

Whatever spark that Gerry felt then, he didn’t attempt to snuff it out. He let himself smile, and in the ugly fluorescent light of the train, he caught a glimpse of Michael’s smile, too. Nothing had ever been more beautiful, he thought, than that.

I’m back on my bullshit again! But hear me out--there’s Gerrymichael fluff in this chapter. a lot of it.

don’t let the tags feel foreboding. I know that we all know that the heavy Desolation content is imminent and scary...but there’s a dinner date! And they’re cute!

And I’m posting more frequently! The heatwave is sort of killing me (is this Desolation core? Am I method acting?) but that does mean a quicker update on this fic :D

I am...very excited for chapter 7 and onwards :)

Summary and tags below!

(for whichever gerry will have the most fun/angst)

[gerry feels the smoke rising in his body. the green of the watcher mixes with the orange of the desolation, in his eyes. he breathes. it is warm— it is destructive, but warm all the same.]

[a fire burns in his soul.]