smackenzie

Aurelian sat on the bed with the blankets around his shoulders and watched Sam internally freak out. The boy was taking it better than he'd expected, all things considered. Mainly, he hadn't thrown Aurelian out yet, and hadn't screamed, and hadn't called his local church and demanded they send over a priest with a bucket of holy water. He was just sitting on the floor in his pajamas working it out in his head. Aurelian thought he might be panicking, but he couldn't be sure. In his (admittedly limited) experience, Sam panic generally manifested itself as Sam babble, and so far there hadn't been a lot of babble.

Aurelian crossed his fingers under the blankets and prayed to a god he didn't believe in any more that Sam wasn't panicking inside his head, and that he wasn't going to throw Aurelian out or run screaming. Aurelian hadn't had much expectation of how this was going to turn out - he'd hoped, but he'd learned not to base his actions on what he thought the consequences would be - well, sometimes he remembered not to do that. He'd hoped Sam would accept it. He'd tried not to fixate on what he hoped Sam would do. (He'd indulged in a little private panic himself, yesterday, wrapping that album in plastic sheets and covering it with packing tape.)

And now Sam was sitting on the floor, looking stunned, not saying anything except for the occasional "fuck me," and Aurelian wanted to prod him to some conclusion, whatever it turned out to be, because waiting like this was maddening. He didn't think he'd made a mistake telling Sam what he was, although he did think he'd made a mistake waiting this long.

He could hear Clare in his head, telling him he should have mentioned it long before now, before he was so far gone. He should have said something when they were just friends, before he started entertaining the idea that they could be lovers.

words: 332
(really i just wanted to break 42k. :> )