In one, Komaeda and Amami open their eyes, lids leaden with sleep and the dappled summer sun that makes waking slow, enveloped by the smell of earth and grass upon which they lay under the shade of the wisteria. In between them lays Rokkun, eyes closed and breathing deep and steady, still asleep. He is whole and unharmed, his wrists bare and unmarked. It feels safe. It feels...
no subject
In one, Komaeda and Amami open their eyes, lids leaden with sleep and the dappled summer sun that makes waking slow, enveloped by the smell of earth and grass upon which they lay under the shade of the wisteria. In between them lays Rokkun, eyes closed and breathing deep and steady, still asleep. He is whole and unharmed, his wrists bare and unmarked. It feels safe. It feels...
... ]