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Oct. 8th, 2017 12:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rockabillyboyIt feels, a little like it did after Jillie's accident, the big one, the one that ended with their mom in hospital. Loss lies heavy over the house like a sheet over a mirror. Jack spends a lot of time with Poison, with Jillie, giving them as much as he can, as much of what he hopes they need. He plays with Jillie's hair. At night, he lies curled around the comma of Poison's spine, and he holds on as tight as he can.
That morning, he sits at the kitchen table, a small black box on the table in front of him. When Poison comes padding into the kitchen, Jack looks up.
"Can we talk about this?" he says, softly. "I...I want to talk about this."
Because they can lose, at any time. Any minute. So they have to live now.
That morning, he sits at the kitchen table, a small black box on the table in front of him. When Poison comes padding into the kitchen, Jack looks up.
"Can we talk about this?" he says, softly. "I...I want to talk about this."
Because they can lose, at any time. Any minute. So they have to live now.
