[There's another comment on his lips- an excuse or something offered or some twist of a story or simply more brandied breath, and then Eugene's hands are warm and firm and pulling him close and the only thing on his lips are Eugene's. Something warm and easy twists in his chest, coiling around the name of an emotion he's quietly terrified of before it ends.
Zev's head falls forward to rest against Eugene's shoulders, his arms slip around to curl and pull and he shifts until he's all but settled in a drunken drape in Eugene's lap. The house was lovely. The kitchen had been familiar.
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Zev's head falls forward to rest against Eugene's shoulders, his arms slip around to curl and pull and he shifts until he's all but settled in a drunken drape in Eugene's lap. The house was lovely. The kitchen had been familiar.
Here was home. Close to it, at least.]
I did not mean to leave.