log post II

[orangetoughguy]

third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III

Comments

[whitetwoguns]

[Shrug. Should they get a move on? Stopping is making the old man lazy.]

You're right. Don't want it to go to your head.

[It's dangerous to let people know how much they mean to you, besides the obvious risk of rejection. The kid is a walking weakness. Larry does stupid things when he's around him, because of him. His only regret is having zero restraint when the kid went out on a limb to confess that he was the rat. That took balls. A big hand ruffles his hair.]

[orangetoughguy]

It's cool.

[To his head? Freddy's already out of his head when Larry's not around. Maybe it's fair enough to say that ship's sailed. The kid doesn't say much with regards to that though. Instead he reaches up to take hold of the hand ruffling his hair, as if to say 'Stop.' or 'You don't have to.' He brings that paw to his cheek, fitting the side of his cold dirty face to the old man's palm. Freddy felt sick not too long ago, like he ought to throw his guts up. Now he just feels tired, exhausted, used up by the city.]

[whitetwoguns]

Super cool?

[The old man looks into that kid's face. The day is wearing on him hard. A meal, a shower and sleep will do him good. Larry stoops to taste his cigarettes on the kid's lips. Only a little, only because the bleachers and a joy ride had to happen to get here.]

Let's go home, baby.

[orangetoughguy]

[He purses his lips, head tilting to receive that kiss only to lean in more, making it harder and firmer. Look when your nose is this big somebody has to tilt. Freddy doesn't go beyond this though, too tired for anything else but sharing warmth arm in arm. When they part, he adds a second lighter kiss, brief.]

Super cool, baby.

[The kid tightens his hold around Larry's waist. Let's go, among other words could fit here in the silence.]