[Of course it was the bottle. Why else would it be gripping it this entire time. Still, even if it's whiskey instead of wine his free hand goes to his neck and the scars there.
Fitting.
He tucked the handle of the pick in his palm, curling his fingers around it so the spike jabs between them.]
Not even a little.
[His gaze is manic, heated. But still so empty. But, better this than the hollow emptiness he had waiting for him otherwise]
no subject
Fitting.
He tucked the handle of the pick in his palm, curling his fingers around it so the spike jabs between them.]
Not even a little.
[His gaze is manic, heated. But still so empty. But, better this than the hollow emptiness he had waiting for him otherwise]