#coc: hotoe

[arealcrow]

see you again

~700 words, call of cthulhu (hotoe)

While Izar is sick, his manager brings him breakfast in bed.

"Oh, Tommy, darling, you really don’t have to do all this,” Izar says. From the nest he’s made in their hotel bed, he has a perfect view of his manager fussing over the tray of food that had been brought up for him. 

“What are you talking about? Of course I do, you’re my star,” he shoots Izar a quizzical look over his shoulder, before returning his attention to the food. He’s moved half of the dishes off the tray and onto the table, leaving only the things that Izar had requested.

“I’m simply not presentable, dear. You shouldn’t see me like this,” he whines, pressing one hand to his fevered forehead theatrically. Like it’s an afterthought, he adds, “And I could get you sick.”

“Izzy, baby, you’re not gonna stop me from taking care of you," Thomas starts, a gentle admonishment. He has to pause his train of thought to focus on lifting the tray without spilling anything on it. Tea, a cup of fruit, toast, pots of jam and honey, and eggs all have to be balanced as he brings it over to place on Izar’s lap. A full spread of breakfast for him to pick at as he wished. Thomas settles himself on the edge of the bed next to Izar, so he can bring a hand up to brush his black curls behind his ear.

“Just relax, dollface. You know I don’t get sick easy. If It was gonna happen, I think it would have hit me by now,” he says, and Izar has a hard time summoning up a disagreement. It was a common occurrence for him to come down with a cold after tiring trips, and the journey from New York to London had been a long one. Thomas’ stronger constitution meant he rarely had the same issue.

“If you say so,” Izar acquiesces with a resigned sigh. 

“Attaboy,” Tommy says fondly, stopping to cup Izzy’s cheek before standing and returning to the desk. He takes a cup of coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other, giving it a cursory glance before tossing it towards the bed for Izar to peruse. 

“I’m afraid I can’t stay and have breakfast with you,” he says between bites of toast washed down with coffee. The statement is met with an immediate pout and noise of protest from Izar, who sits up straighter in the bed.

“You have to go?” the singer asks, his voice taking on a noticeably anxious flutter.

“I’ve got some errands to run before catching up with Clerval at lunch this afternoon,” he confirms. Izar’s face only falls further, disappointment and anxiety furrowing his brow in equal measure. Thomas is at his side again in seconds, taking his hands in his own calloused ones. He’s always been unable to see him in distress and not do something to ease it.

“Come on, now. You can’t enjoy Clerval’s company that much; missing lunch with him won’t be the worst thing in the world,” he jokes, just testing the waters of how upset Izar truly is.

“You always go somewhere nice when you see him,” Izar whines. It’s a deflection of the real things he’s anxious about, and a deflection from commenting on Clerval, and they both know it.

“And I’ll take you somewhere nice, next time we go out. Once you’re feeling well,” he insists, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to Izar’s knuckles.

“I can even invite Frenchie, if he’s still in town by then,” he adds with a wry smile, borrowing Izar’s nickname for the dilettante, which earns him a giggle.

“Maybe,” Izar sighs, and then asks, “How long are you going to be gone?” Closer to the truth of his anxiety.

“Just a few hours-” Thomas glances at his watch, which puts the local time at just past eleven in the morning- “I said we’d meet for lunch around noon, I’d say I’ll be back by three. Likely sooner.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise, Iz,” he leans forward, catching the singer’s wide brown eyes to fix him with a reassuring look. They stay like that for a peaceful moment, close and comforted, before Thomas leans in to give Izar a parting kiss. One that leaves Izar leaning into empty space, lingering in his longing, even after Thomas has slipped out of the door to their hotel room.

[humblegoat]

OCs + tarot

[companionwolf]

flesh burns? yeah that's right oh okay it's HUMAN FLESH ...okay so they're people turned into maggots????? what is this

[humblegoat]

sometimes you can’t do anything but smile for the camera