#inaday

soft family things.  @freamed​​

soft family things.

there’s something in the way richard phrases (and delivers) his offer that makes oswald feel he’s taking an open-palmed whack to the chest. whether to start or stop his heart is entirely unclear. either way, it stalls him — it takes his speech, his composure, his breath, too, for a few seconds.

he shifts in bed without an answer, leaves the receiver pointed out so that the sound of his silk pajamas against the sheets goes unmuted, and fits the phone between his ear and his shoulder the moment he’s comfortable.

that his soles have been stripped of traction by time, that the floor is slick with soap and water, and that a man (no stranger, at least; he’s a regular, an interesting fellow, and maybe part of the reason cosmo has come here instead of any of his more familiar lunch-break joints) stands between him and the counter he’d prefer to skid into are just the cherries on the parfait.

         ‘ awfully sorry, old boy. ’ he switches on a smile to bring home the tease that follows. it’s flatter than it tends to be. ‘ i didn’t see you there. ’

aw god theo this is... too sweet for me to handle. i adore you to bits and pieces, too, and you shouldn’t even get me started on how talented a writer you are? there are few people whose work i return to (none anywhere near as often as i do yours) just for a Good Read. i’ve tracked back through dead blogs for it and everything. it’s just so good.