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[wrackful]

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murphy

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[wrackful]

[It's cute, Murphy thinks, watching Koby navigate the hall. It's a word that's easy to put to Koby at pretty much any time anyway, but now, especially. He looks light, happy, a sparkling to him that isn't just the outfit or the alcohol. Murphy wishes he looked like this more often.]

Mm, yeah. [Easy affirmative, evidence of sleepiness obvious in how his eyelids droop a little heavy under the touch to his hair, how he has a hand light on Koby's hip without thinking about it. A silent stay here, keep doing that.

The corner of his mouth tugs, half a smile.] But you look hot, so it was worth it.

[kobes]

[it’s sad, maybe, that it’s taken alcohol to do it, but – better that than slogging through the malaise of grief and fear that january’s been thus far. better to remember that there’s something beyond hurting all the time. nimbly, koby stays up on his toes, close enough that it’s easy to see the glitter’s been carefully applied over the scars on his chest, almost lovingly, if horrifically messy.]

You need to sleep, sleep’s important for you. [the fussiness amplified, fingercombing through the hair that falls into murphy’s heavy-lidded face, close enough that the scent of sugary booze that clings to koby like perfume is evident. one hand, surprisingly callused, drops to murphy’s cheek, cradles there for a moment as koby blinks slowly.

then, gloss-smeared mouth tilting to a grin:] Youuuu think I look hot? Really? [bouncing a bit on his toes.] Right now?