tried to do a thing. exactly 100 words of ichiruki angst.

everlong.

They are tangled threads and sheets and legs; messy and together because they don't know how to be any other way-

and no one notices the lingering touches and heated looks because they are a quiet constant like warm breezes and summer starlight. His hand brushes her back and fingertips skate across skin covered just by a sliver of sun dress fabric and the way she falls into his touch appears like nothing out of the ordinary.

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Because how can you fault two halves of the same whole orienting themselves together like the sun and moon in the sky?

fun fact: three margaritas deep when I wrote this.

all up in my feels because I'm apparently supposed to graduate and start being a real adult after this weekend? and I started on this site when I was ten? meaning I've been lurking around ff for more than half my life? wut.

(….people do you see this? this is not the work of an adult aka let me hide from the real world for a little longer.)