October
when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and the road has been too long
"Nah, you aren't." You chirp brightly, flashing Finn a broad grin. "I think the only muscles you're worried about are the ones in your—"you glance at Finn, trying to recall which is dominant side is—before grinning even more widely. "—right hand." You only let the awkward implications of this linger in the art (that it's his masturbating hand, obviously), before adding: "For writing and playing guitar, I mean."
You don't comment on how close to it he is. Though part of you does want to scold him for not listening, it isn't your place. His physical health is your primary concern, and all jokes aside, you will absolutely be content to leave it at that.
Now, you are not Falke. You don't have the training Falke has had, can't make the leaps of logic that he does, and by no means are capable of unravelling a mind like Finn has. But it doesn't take a genius to piece at least part of this together: Lia outside, a friend who she'd tried to save, Finn's fingers on his lips. You don't hold Finn's gaze as he looks toward you, instead looking back at the bed to see if there was anything you missed. His glasses remain in your apartment, but other than that, there's nothing more here that either of you should need for your trip downstairs.
"She'd worried about you. She said you drowned? That she tried to save you." You say this almost like a question, gauging if it's the sort of thing that can be spoken of between his apartment and the clinic. "I said I'd go back for her.." You add, chumming the conversational waters.
You don't comment on how close to it he is. Though part of you does want to scold him for not listening, it isn't your place. His physical health is your primary concern, and all jokes aside, you will absolutely be content to leave it at that.
Now, you are not Falke. You don't have the training Falke has had, can't make the leaps of logic that he does, and by no means are capable of unravelling a mind like Finn has. But it doesn't take a genius to piece at least part of this together: Lia outside, a friend who she'd tried to save, Finn's fingers on his lips. You don't hold Finn's gaze as he looks toward you, instead looking back at the bed to see if there was anything you missed. His glasses remain in your apartment, but other than that, there's nothing more here that either of you should need for your trip downstairs.
"She'd worried about you. She said you drowned? That she tried to save you." You say this almost like a question, gauging if it's the sort of thing that can be spoken of between his apartment and the clinic. "I said I'd go back for her.." You add, chumming the conversational waters.
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong
for the lucky and the strong
