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“You’re having trouble sleeping… is the couch a problem?”
“I’m not kicking you out of your bed,” Harry said.
“You’re not.” He waited for something to happen, but nothing did, so he continued. “It’s wide enough. You can tell me about your nightmare.”
Another quiet whimper from the other room. Then, miraculously, a shuffling noise shortly followed by a pitch swath of humanoid shadow in the dark grey space of the doorframe. A tiny victory over self loathing, apparently. The negotiations that followed were done blindly and in hushed tones.
Harry's apartment is deeply fucked after his return from Martinaise. Kim is kind enough to let him stay over for a couple nights and gets hit in the face with a ton of inconvenient feelings-bricks.
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Bookmark Notes:
UGH. They're ridiculous and emotionally constipated
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Bookmark Notes:
Dumb/pos