factuallysatan: (sideways)
It's in the username. ([personal profile] factuallysatan) wrote in [personal profile] solosection 2021-09-04 03:25 pm (UTC)

[ He's curled up in his armchair close to the windows, knees drawn up and his arms slung around them, chin resting on top like he's tiny and powerless which, honestly, that feels rather too close to the truth. For some reason, his mind keeps skipping from the expression on Chloe's face when he'd shown her his true face, when she's looked away, horrified, her eyes wet with tears - to the inescapable fact that he's thrown his phone over the bloody balcony, meaning whatever Elio might've written back to him, whatever comfort he might have offered, is lost. The two things aren't connected, really, not logically. But they keep getting entwined. Messed up.

It's all my fault, he thinks and that's not really true, is it, the phone, maybe, but not... not her reaction. Not the fact that she's been lying to him, going behind his back and plotting to - oh. He blinks, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. It comes away damp.

He hears the elevator's soft ding and Elio's footfalls are so familiar by now that his spine almost instantly relaxes a fraction. Next, the panic. The knowledge that he can't possibly give the man anything like this, he can't be anything like this, and why is he here, anyway? Why would he come at all? Drawing in a harsh breath, curling up a bit further amidst the shadows, he says, voice rough: ]


I'm sorry I never answered, Elio. This is not a good time.

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