[ Gorgug doesn't keep a hold of that hand--what right does he for the contact, that he deserves to? But he follows Fabian's lead all the same, happy to keep behind him unless Fabian tells him to hurry it. Then again, it's only for as long as it takes for them to get outside to the Hangman, where all the while... Gorgug wants to say something, desperately.
I don't feel good. I don't feel good.
It's trapped there in his throat, kept in place by the shame. He might not be looking Fabian in the face (soft features, his smile cool-looking on that face), but he can't get rid of the feeling that he's doing something so bad. And-- and he understands the reason, but why? Why is he feeling this bad about it, right now? When he couldn't keep his head on straight before Fabian showed up here.
He doesn't speak to the Hangman once they arrive to him. He keeps quiet, hums in the affirmative when Fabian speaks, and gets onto the back of the motorcycle with him, placing his feet either side of the back wheel. It's not the hardest part: that's reserved for his mind telling him to put his arms around Fabian's waist, lean in. It makes his skin burn between the layers of his clothes, and he ignores it, knows he'll ignore it by putting his hands on Fabian's shoulders instead.
The sooner they get back, the sooner he can get to bed. He needs to stop thinking about everything now--he needs his thoughts to stop racing like he's going to suffer a heart attack. ]
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I don't feel good. I don't feel good.
It's trapped there in his throat, kept in place by the shame. He might not be looking Fabian in the face (soft features, his smile cool-looking on that face), but he can't get rid of the feeling that he's doing something so bad. And-- and he understands the reason, but why? Why is he feeling this bad about it, right now? When he couldn't keep his head on straight before Fabian showed up here.
He doesn't speak to the Hangman once they arrive to him. He keeps quiet, hums in the affirmative when Fabian speaks, and gets onto the back of the motorcycle with him, placing his feet either side of the back wheel. It's not the hardest part: that's reserved for his mind telling him to put his arms around Fabian's waist, lean in. It makes his skin burn between the layers of his clothes, and he ignores it, knows he'll ignore it by putting his hands on Fabian's shoulders instead.
The sooner they get back, the sooner he can get to bed. He needs to stop thinking about everything now--he needs his thoughts to stop racing like he's going to suffer a heart attack. ]