Wheeling Gull Isle when the damn thing breaks, i’ll be there to take you home

fluttering heart-beat hard against his chest, its rhythm resonating in his ears, blocking out what could be gathered by those outside; separate from him, naoyuki, but yet unknown or lost in the echo of—

milk from okāsan dribbled down his chin and onto the slicked blue of his chest. she was beside him, this provider; their first meal held him for less than an hour before he was once more kneading at her core.