good enough ain't good enough for you or me, and feeling stuck is fucking up my sanity
Of course Felix has. Not through any fault of his own, but the simple curiosity of it all. He’s content enough when Zeph replies, however, nodding as brows furrow together. “Lingerie…” He trails off, committing the term to memory before he’s puffing out his cheeks a bit at the mention of swimsuits and nodding as the explanation is given for what else they sell.
But that’s not the point of why he’s here. He wants to work, craves it, surprising for a boy of his age who’d likely rather want to be squirreled away doing nothing other than focusing on stirring up trouble.
He can’t help the exasperated look that crosses his face as Zeph settles in, eyes wide and lips parting, mouth opening in a small ‘O’ shape that has him thinking what the fuck. But Felix slips forward, arms outstretched, weak as hell in comparison with his youth and string bean arms. He aims to latch onto Zeph’s arm, plant his feet, and pull him along. “C’mon! You can sit on the beach or wherever we go and just shout at me what you want me to do.”
But that’s not the point of why he’s here. He wants to work, craves it, surprising for a boy of his age who’d likely rather want to be squirreled away doing nothing other than focusing on stirring up trouble.
He can’t help the exasperated look that crosses his face as Zeph settles in, eyes wide and lips parting, mouth opening in a small ‘O’ shape that has him thinking what the fuck. But Felix slips forward, arms outstretched, weak as hell in comparison with his youth and string bean arms. He aims to latch onto Zeph’s arm, plant his feet, and pull him along. “C’mon! You can sit on the beach or wherever we go and just shout at me what you want me to do.”
FELIX
