freshly out of the shower, closely shaved, the reflexion staring back at him in the mirror finally looks  decent enough that there isnât word despair  written all over his feature anymore. or, in the words of his best friend: he finally  stopped  looking like  shit.  it is resigned that,  against his first instinct,  he had followed amaniâs instructions,  and got ready  for the  funeral,  somehow inspired by the pep talk he had received,  but also pushed by this feeling that he  owed  it to her. after everything she did, or tried to do, for him  -â  wasnât it the least he could do, really? she deserved at least his presence at her funeral. even if guilt clouded thornâs judgement, attending still felt like the  sensible  thing to do.  thereâs a sighs that escapes him;  even now, even though thoughts should have been cleared and mind made up, heâs still distracted.  uncomfortable. the suits already feels constricting on him, as if only because of the implications that comes with wearing it.
he is way too  distracted  to truly pay attention to what heâs doing, thoughts tumbling in his head, trying to figure out what he would do or say if kellyâs family asked for  answers.  what could he possibly say to them when he knows; it  couldnât  have been a simple accident. all he feels at the prospect is  dread.  but then again, he has to remind himself that heâs got to do this.  still: distracted, he sure is. and the only response to amaniâs remark is a simple oh. only then is he finally noticing the otherâs  presence  by his side; he doesnât even have time to fix his tie himself that his friendâs hands are already reaching out to adeptly readjust the item. for a second damien gets  lost  in thought again, while his eyes stay fixed on the other. itâs only when his friend signals that heâs done that damienâs attention becomes  undivided and he nods.    âthank you.â and somehow, it means a lot  more than just the tie.
baratheonpilled
origamiaround
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
jacobvanloon
turnnoffyourmind
