MurderousPastry



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    He’s so light when you get your arms under him and lift him up. There’s no weight to him, just gangly little limbs and his chest rising and falling like a frightened small animal—tiny, shallow, pointless little gasps. You should. You should leave him, or cull him even, he’s not just sick he’s a runt and an idiot and way, way too nice even after you scream at him every time you talk to him…

    “We’re going home,” you say again, and he makes a noise you trained yourself not to make five sweeps ago—a wrigglerish little whine, tired and grateful.

    “…’kay bro,” he mumbles into your chest, and curls up as tight as he can against you, huddling up into your arms.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    16,048
    Chapters:
    4/4
    Comments:
    66
    Kudos:
    1059
    Bookmarks:
    217
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    28 Dec 2014