And waiting until I look like this was the best bet? You couldn't have asked me to dinner at age fifty-five? Fifty-five was a pretty good year. You paid attention that whole time and I never annoyed the shit out of you? My Twitter account is so bad. My second wife published all of our angry emails and I look like a psychopath in them.
He has all of that, incredulous and insecure defense mechanisms, a rocket barrage as always, covering his escape. Good at reading people, and Louis didn't want him, and Daniel was hurt, stupidly hurt, and for some fucking reason there's still a bruise, even though he knows - especially now, he knows - that if Louis had fucked him he'd have killed him. No interview, no mood turn, just the routine like all the other boys.
What's death beside the next trophy, though. Maybe Daniel didn't think he'd die.
And look. He didn't. Armand killed him and he's fine, and this train of thought is going places because Daniel's mind is still whirring, until, until—
What?
He's going to say all that, but he doesn't, because Louis says something he's said before, but he hasn't. Has he? Daniel is staring at him in a different way, a sharp frown on his face. A jolt. Reality, shifting.
no subject
And waiting until I look like this was the best bet? You couldn't have asked me to dinner at age fifty-five? Fifty-five was a pretty good year. You paid attention that whole time and I never annoyed the shit out of you? My Twitter account is so bad. My second wife published all of our angry emails and I look like a psychopath in them.
He has all of that, incredulous and insecure defense mechanisms, a rocket barrage as always, covering his escape. Good at reading people, and Louis didn't want him, and Daniel was hurt, stupidly hurt, and for some fucking reason there's still a bruise, even though he knows - especially now, he knows - that if Louis had fucked him he'd have killed him. No interview, no mood turn, just the routine like all the other boys.
What's death beside the next trophy, though. Maybe Daniel didn't think he'd die.
And look. He didn't. Armand killed him and he's fine, and this train of thought is going places because Daniel's mind is still whirring, until, until—
What?
He's going to say all that, but he doesn't, because Louis says something he's said before, but he hasn't. Has he? Daniel is staring at him in a different way, a sharp frown on his face. A jolt. Reality, shifting.
"Bitter, at first."
Sounds like a quote. No.