[ Rhy responds mock-cheerfully. He sinks lower into the water, lazily moving one arm just beneath the surface back and forth to watch the ripples form. If Kahlil were to observe him, he might notice a few scars on Rhy as well, which usually remain beneath his clothes: a small but noticeably raised scar on the right side of his ribs; a mark made up of two concentric circles over his heart, something between a scar and a tattoo; and much less noticeably by now after months of healing, a series of lines down the inside of his left forearm that look like something written there. (The word is sorry, if one were to look closely enough.)
He sinks back on the bench, looking over at Kyle with a shrug. ]
Haven't you noticed? Everything is fucked up. Even the dead don't want to stay dead anymore.
[ He laughs, a short bark of a thing. Not that it's clear, but he's laughing at himself. ]
Not that I can blame them. I certainly have no room to talk.
[ When he looks up, assuming Kyle is handing the bottle back to him soon, Rhy realizes it's been placed aside. He stares at it for a beat too long, as though it might suddenly decide to close the distance. ]
I'm here for a distraction. [ He says finally, and when he closes the distance between them to reach for the bottle, Rhy slides his arm behind Kyle's shoulders almost in an embrace. ]
no subject
[ Rhy responds mock-cheerfully. He sinks lower into the water, lazily moving one arm just beneath the surface back and forth to watch the ripples form. If Kahlil were to observe him, he might notice a few scars on Rhy as well, which usually remain beneath his clothes: a small but noticeably raised scar on the right side of his ribs; a mark made up of two concentric circles over his heart, something between a scar and a tattoo; and much less noticeably by now after months of healing, a series of lines down the inside of his left forearm that look like something written there. (The word is sorry, if one were to look closely enough.)
He sinks back on the bench, looking over at Kyle with a shrug. ]
Haven't you noticed? Everything is fucked up. Even the dead don't want to stay dead anymore.
[ He laughs, a short bark of a thing. Not that it's clear, but he's laughing at himself. ]
Not that I can blame them. I certainly have no room to talk.
[ When he looks up, assuming Kyle is handing the bottle back to him soon, Rhy realizes it's been placed aside. He stares at it for a beat too long, as though it might suddenly decide to close the distance. ]
I'm here for a distraction. [ He says finally, and when he closes the distance between them to reach for the bottle, Rhy slides his arm behind Kyle's shoulders almost in an embrace. ]
Care to be one?