spectral morning

you can use my rib cage as a pillow

Mormor fluff, 782 words

It’s only exhaustion that makes him rest. That’s what Sebastian knows. It is only that moment when there is a subtle shift in his posture, from perfect to slightly less than. So very slightly.

Nothing slack in how he holds himself, nothing bent or broken. Just a lowering of tense shoulders, the way he rolls his neck slowly, drawing out the letting go of whatever worries he’s holding in his jaw. Weights and worlds all bound up in bone.

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