shi-no-toge:

hanakotobawakodoku:

Entirely unaware that he had an audience, Eric kept it up. His movements were fluid, hips inspired to sway with the music and feet bouncing against the bed in time. Yes, he was the sort to go about dancing on his bed. And while he wasn’t bad at it, it seemed his balance needed a little work — for one wrong step and he was sent (in a fit of loud shouts and cursing) tumbling to the ground with a crash. Sheets tangled around his legs and hair disheveled.

Out of Eric’s sight, Alan looked rather crestfallen, unable to shake the notion that the reason Eric continued to deny him was because he didn’t want to become attached before he died. He stared at the ground as he walked, sighing sadly. If he only had a way to get rid of the thorns… then surely Eric would love him.

The silence was rather deafening. Eric did feel guilty for whatever pain he might be causing Alan, but it was for their own good. The both of them. For their own sake, he had to harden his heart and keep his distance. He fussed with his carton of cigarettes, picked on out, and lit it. Now was as good a time as any. 

He headed down the beaten path through the field, and passed the familiar wooden swing. Not too far away now was the dock and stretch of flowers.