I am DESPERATELY in love with this; it's brutal and beautiful, and everything I could have possibly hoped for. it's like you pulled the exact thing I wanted straight out of my brain, like a rabbit out of a hat.
He isn’t even responsible enough to be the one to break the kiss. Eliot does, his smile splitting between them, and it’s not even… It feels real. Breathless. Giddy. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Come on, see? It’s fine. All fine.” He nuzzles close again, lips soft at the corner of Quentin’s mouth. “Just—”
Fuck. Quentin’s fucking this up so bad, in so many ways. “El.” He manages to pull his chin back, just barely. He gets his palms against Eliot’s chest. “Hold on, just. Wait, okay?”
Eliot stops, but for a brief, frozen moment he doesn’t pull away, and— Quentin thinks about flowers dunked in liquid nitrogen at the science museum. Beautiful and eerie and brittle. Petals smashed to pieces for a fucking spectacle.
IT HURTS SO GOOD
“I say a lot of shit,” Eliot says. He manages to drag himself up to his knees, and then to one unsteady foot. “I am fucking- constantly spouting bullshit. It never stops. How have you not caught on to this by now?” He sways, and Quentin doesn’t know if he’s going to, like, topple over or not, but he reaches out anyway, catches his palm under Eliot’s ribs.
this fucking FLASH of honesty that Quentin doesn't realize the full depth of, you're absolutely killing me with this
Re: FILL: Question/Eliot & the end of a shitty night (CW: SUBSTANCE ABUSE)
I am DESPERATELY in love with this; it's brutal and beautiful, and everything I could have possibly hoped for. it's like you pulled the exact thing I wanted straight out of my brain, like a rabbit out of a hat.
He isn’t even responsible enough to be the one to break the kiss. Eliot does, his smile splitting between them, and it’s not even… It feels real. Breathless. Giddy. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Come on, see? It’s fine. All fine.” He nuzzles close again, lips soft at the corner of Quentin’s mouth. “Just—”
Fuck. Quentin’s fucking this up so bad, in so many ways. “El.” He manages to pull his chin back, just barely. He gets his palms against Eliot’s chest. “Hold on, just. Wait, okay?”
Eliot stops, but for a brief, frozen moment he doesn’t pull away, and— Quentin thinks about flowers dunked in liquid nitrogen at the science museum. Beautiful and eerie and brittle. Petals smashed to pieces for a fucking spectacle.
IT HURTS SO GOOD
“I say a lot of shit,” Eliot says. He manages to drag himself up to his knees, and then to one unsteady foot. “I am fucking- constantly spouting bullshit. It never stops. How have you not caught on to this by now?” He sways, and Quentin doesn’t know if he’s going to, like, topple over or not, but he reaches out anyway, catches his palm under Eliot’s ribs.
this fucking FLASH of honesty that Quentin doesn't realize the full depth of, you're absolutely killing me with this
THANK YOU THANK YOU! this is fucking majestic