(no subject)

[rockabillyboy]

Nothing is coming together.

Jack's been working pretty frantically on his portfolio for the last week. He's got lots of pieces mostly done, but nothing done enough to submit. The deadline is looming. He's pinned all of his hopes on getting into art school, starting in the Fall. Mentally, he doesn't really feel prepared to submit anything, though, and that leads to a manic level of work. He's been peripherally aware of Poison all day, hovering in his space, asking him if he wants to do something else for an hour or so.

He's being an asshole, he knows. He can't help it.

"Shit, boo," he says, worrying his lip with his teeth. "I just want to get this piece done, okay?"

Comments

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison rolls his eyes, but his smile lingers. "Call me whatever you want, honey. I'll answer."

[rockabillyboy]

"I don't like to push it too hard," says Jack. "Because you don't like it. But...I'd like it. Calling you that, I mean. Thinking of you like that."

[afabulouskilljoy]

"But you like it," he says gently, giving Jack a fond look. "You can call me your boyfriend, Jack. I'm with you."

[rockabillyboy]

Jack leans in and takes another kiss. He doesn't ask Poison what he thinks of him, what he calls him in his head. It's enough.

[afabulouskilljoy]

His hand slides up to hold Jack into the kiss, keeping it sweet, tender. Then he lets him go and that little smile is still there as they part. He can't put a name to it. But he hopes Jack understand he means it when he says it. I'm with you.