patrick falling in love with you and then self-destructing as he always does by going and fucking other girls. maybe even ones you know. sleeping around, showing off his newest piece of ass every weekend. grinning like a bobcat in pictures, his eyes dull and devoid of joy. he misses you, god does he miss you. your laugh and your hair and the way you smell and yeah he misses the sex but mostly he misses the way you'd hold him when you fell asleep afterwards. like you never wanted to let go. and then he had to go and wrench your hands off of him, like he always does.
Though I managed to maintain a discipline and humility for 239 years as Satan's fool, by the time Robespierre was beheaded, I was, by any measure failing. Our ways were finished. We were embers on a waning pyre. Lestat was the wind to scatter. I felt his presence before I saw him.
the cat king after telling edwin he’s sure they can figure out some way to make him happy and edwin immediately panics in repressed gay edwardian twink