whiskey, smoke and aces high

It's too bad. When did it get cool to be so sad? We're spinnin' backwards, did we all go mad?
Yeah, we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses,
So stop and sm?ll the fucking roses

Remi pulls in a breath, suddenly conflicted and confused. He finds himself not leaning forward as he had all but pledged to do. He clenches his jaw once before forcing himself not to, mirroring Ronin's position by running his fingers up the back of his neck before ruffling them through his curls. "I legitimately forgot it." He admits. "I made myself not look at my phone to see if you'd messaged me, and by the time you had, I had all of 10 minutes to rush out the door and meet you." But, if he had remembered it, he wouldn't have Ronin in his apartment now.

"Well, but that's my point. I know what they want from me. You though? Not a fucking clue. All of this is happening backward and I haven't got any idea what it is you want from me." They'd gone from chatting about their frustrated boners to dead family members, and from sloppy orgasms to kissing, to now standing awkwardly in Remi's kitchen. Shaking his head, Remi sighs, looking both defeated and more frustrated now as pink streaks up his cheeks.

"Whatever, it's fine. And I hope you aren't allergic to dogs, because I'm pretty sure Amadeus has been using your jacket as a pillow." He says with a nod toward the couch, his tone just slightly colder than it had been ten seconds ago when he'd asked to kiss Ronin.

Fuck this day. Fuck this guy and his bad coffee and blue eyes.

ThE RoCkStAr