#solichor

    on his way from the kitchen in darkness, woods switches on a single crimson shaded lamp and illuminates the living room as well as its visitor in a comforting autumn glow; he isn’t expecting to see bennie curled up on the couch, houseguest out of bed. ❛❛ you startled me — ❜❜  with eyes feeling grainy and dry, he blinks them quickly and looks down, hands of his watch come into focus, ❛❛ love, it’s 3:45 in the morning, ev’ryone’s usually in bed ‘cept for me. ❜❜ that includes perry, who’s probably now curled up in the warm imprint that woods leaves on his occasional nightly downstairs excursions to the kitchen — always for a cup of tea and a blank journal page to fill. 

summer flinches backward and narrows her eyes - but she does not falter! you can’t throw her so easily.

baby looks at summer with an unreadable expression before his lips curl into a smile, warmth blooming in his chest, fondness in his eyes (though she can’t see them).

         ‘ i thought that was directed at the— ’ he turns his palm up and makes an urgent, pointed gesture at the television. ‘ those weren’t michael bay-exclusive fucking expletives? what the fuck’d i do? ’

the whole scene could do with a swell of romantic score, if you ask him. he loops her with his free arm and, with momentum on his side, half-lifts and half-twirls her simultaneously.

         ‘ could’a told me you wanted company, ’ he says, muffled and out of the side of his mouth. ‘ — before you left. you didn’t have to get all fuckin’ sneaky on me. ’