Harper
Anything beautiful, people want to break
And you are beautiful, I'm afraid
And you are beautiful, I'm afraid
The anger subsides faster than he had expected. Maybe it's age, or experience, or something else. Maybe Harper needs to stop being so afraid of himself. But as he slowly drops his hands back to the couch to prop himself up, he sees the thick, gnarled scars there and that small hope dies. Her comfort is still enough to keep him tempered and the coals to a low simmer, and Harper slowly straightens, though he instinctively keeps his shoulders hunched to appear smaller after such a violent outburst.
He doesn't consider the implications, both too inebriated and admittedly not the type to be ruled by such base desires. While more than happy to satisfy when they'd been together, he'd never been the skirt-chasing type. Right now he just...needs someone there. "Edmund's old room, he cleared it out. It's..." his head hurts from the sudden swell of emotion, which means bad things for the inevitable hangover, so Harper abandons any attempt at explaining and merely motions silently for her to follow. Hands empty and wanting to grab onto her somehow but lost in a sea of uncertainty on where they stood now.
Instead he leads her there, the room now a guest bedroom with a decently large bed and closed curtains with no personal belongings remaining. It hurts to look at, but Harper knows Edmund is happy in his new apartment. He stands there staring at the bed all the same, feeling that same ache of loss. Shaking his head roughly he yanks off his sweatpants and nothing more, leaving plenty of clothes between them as he gracelessly lays on one side, silent and drained.
He doesn't consider the implications, both too inebriated and admittedly not the type to be ruled by such base desires. While more than happy to satisfy when they'd been together, he'd never been the skirt-chasing type. Right now he just...needs someone there. "Edmund's old room, he cleared it out. It's..." his head hurts from the sudden swell of emotion, which means bad things for the inevitable hangover, so Harper abandons any attempt at explaining and merely motions silently for her to follow. Hands empty and wanting to grab onto her somehow but lost in a sea of uncertainty on where they stood now.
Instead he leads her there, the room now a guest bedroom with a decently large bed and closed curtains with no personal belongings remaining. It hurts to look at, but Harper knows Edmund is happy in his new apartment. He stands there staring at the bed all the same, feeling that same ache of loss. Shaking his head roughly he yanks off his sweatpants and nothing more, leaving plenty of clothes between them as he gracelessly lays on one side, silent and drained.
But I would love you in any form you take
