Whatever. [He lays back onto the bed and closes his eyes, trying to not get distracted by the way he has the ghost sensation of Jotaro's fingers on his face, down his neck.
No-- the Stand states, head tilting at the suggested name. No--
It's hard not to, but Abbacchio thinks back on everything from today. What a fucked up time, getting an arrow in the throat and now this superpower bullshit. He didn't ask for this. He doesn't deserve this. He barely deserves to have a paying job anyway. The occasional affection from Jotaro drives him crazy in the both best and worst ways, and he doesn't know how to deal with it.
Because the last time he had affection was Florentino. He was too sweet, too kind, too warm. Way too fucking good for Abbacchio, honestly.
They'd take turns playing their CDs in the car. Abbacchio always had his stock of Monteverdi, and Florentino had a variety including American music.
Abbacchio rubs at his eyes, aggressively trying to keep himself from getting too emotional thinking about what was.]
no subject
No-- the Stand states, head tilting at the suggested name. No--
It's hard not to, but Abbacchio thinks back on everything from today. What a fucked up time, getting an arrow in the throat and now this superpower bullshit. He didn't ask for this. He doesn't deserve this. He barely deserves to have a paying job anyway. The occasional affection from Jotaro drives him crazy in the both best and worst ways, and he doesn't know how to deal with it.
Because the last time he had affection was Florentino. He was too sweet, too kind, too warm. Way too fucking good for Abbacchio, honestly.
They'd take turns playing their CDs in the car. Abbacchio always had his stock of Monteverdi, and Florentino had a variety including American music.
Abbacchio rubs at his eyes, aggressively trying to keep himself from getting too emotional thinking about what was.]
Moody Blues.
[The Stand pauses, then:
Yes -- Yes -- I like it.]