[ Those words. They leave a sour taste in his mouth. He keeps his arm still, his fist curled, his muscles slightly jumping. His heart races against the ceiling of his mouth. He knew, in a way or another, that his secret was not a secret, not from them, but it was something he wasn't willing to accept. He barely accepts it himself, much less admitting to others.
But the more he delays, the more he can feel it. The slow, slow turning of his stomach. The very gradual blurring of his vision. The way he can feel himself grow a little colder. Sweat running down the back of his neck. Tastes like iron in the back of his mouth. Heartbeat slowing down, erratic. ]
Like it fucking matters what I think.
[ Is she going to stand there? Leave a boy to inject himself in peace, no? Rude. ]
no subject
But the more he delays, the more he can feel it. The slow, slow turning of his stomach. The very gradual blurring of his vision. The way he can feel himself grow a little colder. Sweat running down the back of his neck. Tastes like iron in the back of his mouth. Heartbeat slowing down, erratic. ]
Like it fucking matters what I think.
[ Is she going to stand there? Leave a boy to inject himself in peace, no? Rude. ]