[ This moment that settles between them feels at once terribly fragile, like the wrong move will send it shattering into a thousand pieces, and shockingly ironclad. Whatever has changed has changed, has wrapped itself around them irrevocably and will not be moved.
Henry leans in and it feels like bliss, and he finds himself thinking that this makes every moment worth it. He told Henry once that delicate things weren't for someone like him, so perhaps something made of iron is better.
The kiss breaks after a long moment, and Alec just looks at him. At this man who has somehow found his way into every dark little corner of Alec's heart and against all odds is still here. ]
Yeah. [ He says it quietly, suddenly, like he's just remembered where the conversation was three steps prior. ] I'll stay.
[Like a spider’s web — fragile, yet strong. Both of them finding themselves caught inextricably between each thread, without ever truly meaning to. But Henry cannot imagine it differently, now; he cannot humor not being entwined with this man in every way possible, the future spreading out before them both as a path they can walk together, through a cruel and inequitable universe.
This moment is perfect. But time is as uncaring as usual. The seconds tick on, on, and on, and eventually, Alec pulls away.
And yet Henry doesn’t feel disappointed. Only warm and contented as he meets his gaze, his lips still half-parted.
I’ll stay.
The words resonate through him, down to the very atom. Tonight. Forever. They feel the same.]
That’s all I want. [Should he say something to ease the poignancy of this moment? It would almost be a shame. But eventually, he breathes out-] Do me one more, small favor?
[ He is quite honestly contemplating kissing him again, if only because he's realizing how much he actually likes it. But then Henry asks him for a favor, and Alec blinks at him. ]
[Oh, good. Then he’s propping up his sketchbook and placing pencil to paper again.]
But it’s true. [Alec is darkly, ruggedly handsome, in his opinion. The opposite of himself.] I’m sure you’ve heard it plenty of times, it can’t possibly be news to you.
Should Alec flip to the front, he’ll see sketches of varying things and places in the prison. And then there’s an intricately detailed spider. A few unfinished figure drawings, abandoned half-way through. And then a few more spider drawings.
A sketch of a grandfather clock. Then some spiders in glass jars. A sketch of a huge, swollen moon in a night sky. THEN MORE SPIDERS.
The spider drawings actually seem to become more in number once he asked for the terrarium from the item box; Alec might recognize Charlotte in there.
[ Yeah, yeah this is about what he expected to find. A few odds and ends here and there and then so many spiders. Soooo many spiders.
And then him. It's one thing to hear Henry say he's the first fully-rendered person to make it into his sketchbook, but seeing it is kind of jarring. ]
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Henry leans in and it feels like bliss, and he finds himself thinking that this makes every moment worth it. He told Henry once that delicate things weren't for someone like him, so perhaps something made of iron is better.
The kiss breaks after a long moment, and Alec just looks at him. At this man who has somehow found his way into every dark little corner of Alec's heart and against all odds is still here. ]
Yeah. [ He says it quietly, suddenly, like he's just remembered where the conversation was three steps prior. ] I'll stay.
[ The night? Forever? Hard to say. ]
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This moment is perfect. But time is as uncaring as usual. The seconds tick on, on, and on, and eventually, Alec pulls away.
And yet Henry doesn’t feel disappointed. Only warm and contented as he meets his gaze, his lips still half-parted.
I’ll stay.
The words resonate through him, down to the very atom. Tonight. Forever. They feel the same.]
That’s all I want. [Should he say something to ease the poignancy of this moment? It would almost be a shame. But eventually, he breathes out-] Do me one more, small favor?
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And what's that?
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This might, in fact, just be an excuse to touch him, but he does have a practical reason—]
Keep your head like that for just a few minutes so I can finish my sketch. Your browline's difficult.
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He makes a face. ]
Maybe I should just go back to sleep.
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He drops his hand, though. Whether or not Alec wants to hold that angle is up to him.]
Humor me a little as I try to capture your handsome features on paper.
[Maybe using flattery (though not untrue) will get him what he wants.]
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[ He says, as he holds still anyway. ]
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But it’s true. [Alec is darkly, ruggedly handsome, in his opinion. The opposite of himself.] I’m sure you’ve heard it plenty of times, it can’t possibly be news to you.
[sketching time]
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I make it a point not to be noticed long enough for someone to tell me if I'm handsome or not.
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Seems like a waste.
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Does it?
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Think of all the compliments you’ll never get to hear.
[But maybe it’s better this way; he gets him all to himself.]
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...Good.
[An exception means he's special, which is a thoroughly wonderfully satisfying thing to hear.]
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Don't let it go to your head or anything.
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Pencil down, sketchbook lowered.]
There. You're officially the first fully rendered person in my sketchbook now.
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The first? What the hell else do you have in there?
[ IS IT FULL OF SPIDERS ]
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Yes.]
Do you want to see?
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Sure. Let's see what you've got.
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Should Alec flip to the front, he’ll see sketches of varying things and places in the prison. And then there’s an intricately detailed spider. A few unfinished figure drawings, abandoned half-way through. And then a few more spider drawings.
A sketch of a grandfather clock. Then some spiders in glass jars. A sketch of a huge, swollen moon in a night sky. THEN MORE SPIDERS.
The spider drawings actually seem to become more in number once he asked for the terrarium from the item box; Alec might recognize Charlotte in there.
And then, finally, the drawing of Alec asleep.]
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And then him. It's one thing to hear Henry say he's the first fully-rendered person to make it into his sketchbook, but seeing it is kind of jarring. ]
You're really not one for figure drawing, huh?
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[Henry Creel has always been a misanthropist. This is reflected in his sketches.]
Though some of the people here are far more interesting than anyone from home. I’ll give them that much.
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[ He has noted she's not on any of these pages. At least not with the kind of detail with which Alec was rendered. ]
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