( mssg » killer 🍑 🍑 🍆 | sent) Just come out when you’re ready Blaine. ( mssg » killer 🍑 🍑 🍆 | sent) No rush. I know how hard it can be to get dressed when you were naked beforehand. ( mssg » killer 🍑 🍑 🍆 | sent) I mean, what? Yeah no I totally believe that you were wearing PJs before.
( mssg » sebastian | sent ) I wasn’t naked! ( mssg » sebastian | sent ) Yeah! Sure. Uh huh! ( mssg » sebastian | sent ) I’m on my way!
Blaine finishes the last touches on curls that barely wanted to be contained since he’d was in bed for nearly an hour before Sebastian’s arrival. Stray curls ran along his forehead, threatened to drop free from where he tried to slick them back with a bit of water to no real avail. Sebastian refused to come inside. He didn’t want him waiting any longer than he was already. A pair of red boat shoes are put on with a few hops between to speed things up. His Dalton hoodie goes over his head and grey v-neck next. Further shaking his hair free but this time unnoticed as he shoves his wallet into the pocket of his jeans.
Outdoor sconces light up the large Westerville Estate with all it’s windows dark except the amber glow of the desk lamp he left on in an upstairs window of the house
that seems mutely still and too pristine to be lived in. A stark contrast the projection of warmth and sunshine that the boy who lives inside of it exudes daily. Mustard yellow, crimson and brown plaid blanket in hand from a pit stop in the living room where the last of a fire was burning down–Blaine closes the front doors and jogs down the stairs waving as he approaches the car.
His free hand pulls open the door and Blaine ducks inside.
An ear to ear–even if it’s a lil bit sleepy–cheeky grin greets his visitor. “I have to ask,” his gaze darts in a mystified glance over Sebastian’s eyes, “Not that I mind. But. What on Earth made you want to come here this late?”
pianokeysandbowties back up 