// i saw the walls, finished and plain //
His hair does stick up in varying directions, having dried in the way he’d curled up against the bartender. Much like the night before, though, as Casimir’s hand lifts to brush through the wild strands, Thorn leans into it completely willingly, without a single second of hesitation. He finds that any kind of touch Casimir wants to provide, Thorn will soak up like a sun starved sunflower.
Even though it doesn’t do much, the hand that drops to his shoulder is warm and comfortable especially with the morning chill, and he props himself up, tugging the blanket up to cover more of his chest as if trying to keep the heat in. There’s no answer from the bartender – that’s expected these days, but the curve of his mouth is answer enough.
And really, all it does is spark the slow excitement in his gut back to butterflies – an electric little zap that jolts through him to realize he hadn’t dreamt any of this, that it was real, that Casimir was still here, in his bed, and didn’t seem too upset about being here. He only belatedly realizes the way Casimir’s arm stretches out a little, shifting beneath him as if to try and wake it up, and it makes Thorn sit up with a soft little laugh and a curse. “Shit, sorry.” He murmurs, giving him free rein to sit up and stretch out whatever he needs to.
It’s about then that he notices the light filtering through the small window of his room, looking over and squinting at it before a slight little panic settles in. “You’re not gonna be late, are ya?” He asks, looking back at Cas with a hint of concern flaring in the seafoam of his eyes, worried that he might have kept him away from his job for too long.
Even though it doesn’t do much, the hand that drops to his shoulder is warm and comfortable especially with the morning chill, and he props himself up, tugging the blanket up to cover more of his chest as if trying to keep the heat in. There’s no answer from the bartender – that’s expected these days, but the curve of his mouth is answer enough.
And really, all it does is spark the slow excitement in his gut back to butterflies – an electric little zap that jolts through him to realize he hadn’t dreamt any of this, that it was real, that Casimir was still here, in his bed, and didn’t seem too upset about being here. He only belatedly realizes the way Casimir’s arm stretches out a little, shifting beneath him as if to try and wake it up, and it makes Thorn sit up with a soft little laugh and a curse. “Shit, sorry.” He murmurs, giving him free rein to sit up and stretch out whatever he needs to.
It’s about then that he notices the light filtering through the small window of his room, looking over and squinting at it before a slight little panic settles in. “You’re not gonna be late, are ya?” He asks, looking back at Cas with a hint of concern flaring in the seafoam of his eyes, worried that he might have kept him away from his job for too long.
Hawthorn
// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //
