[ Nightmares, Harold says. He has nightmares, too. This is a thing they're admitting now, words previously locked away. Now, the two of them are saying a whole lot. Giving oxygen to secrets that should have been strangled before they broke the surface. There's no taking it back, is there?
Carver rocks on his heels, gaze drifting. He needs to focus, he knows distantly. This isn't good. He wants to die, a little. ]
Yeah, [ he agrees. Cleaning. He can clean. That's useful. ] Yes, sir.
cw suicidal ideation
Carver rocks on his heels, gaze drifting. He needs to focus, he knows distantly. This isn't good. He wants to die, a little. ]
Yeah, [ he agrees. Cleaning. He can clean. That's useful. ] Yes, sir.
[ This, at least, he won't fuck up. ]