This is quite possibly my favourite gif I have ever seen
always reblog this
His mother was going to kill him. If Max had his way, she’d never find out that yes, he’d been in another fight, yes, it was that Kugler kid again, and fine, they’d both come away from it a little bloody, but the problem with having six cousins who couldn’t keep their mouths shut was that your mother tended to find out about these things.
At least detention let him put if off for a couple of hours.
He didn’t know the other kid by anything other than sight, and whilst he was pretty certain he’d heard some shady-sounding rumours associated with him, neither of them had ever had a problem with eachother - in fact, they’d never even talked - so he turned his head to face him and gave a small shrug.
"Walter Kugler got away faster than I did," he answered simply. And whilst that may have meant that Max had ended up in detention, he didn’t regret the fight that preceded it one bit. It hadn’t been one of his worst, and he’d actually landed a few decent punches— Perhaps not, on reflection, such a good idea, considering who the opposition was.
”Maybe you should work on your running then,” he commented idly, a smug smirk making its way onto his lips. They might not know eachother— nor have spoken before but Montparnasse knew his way around these halls. Somehow he seemed to know at least a little about someone— if not all— and he was aware that this boy had some reputation.
Leaning back in his chair, his gaze dropped to the paper where he had scribbled down something — an attempt at the task he’d been given by his teacher. A small essay— in French, considering his mother’s and family’s heritage— explaining his situation to his mother. It was to be delivered to her — when he was done and he was certain that when she got to know there’d be a scolding waiting for him.
If he was lucky she wouldn’t slap him again.
”— I’ve seen you around the halls, yet I can’t seem to have grasped your name. What’s your name, fistfighter?”
((-slides awkward Radek towards you-)) . w .
"Uhm— Good evening?"
He was hesitant at first, uncertain about the answer, he was supposed to give the other, the stranger, he had just met mere moments ago. After all, the murderer had been called many names, “The pale devil”, “A sinner”, “A maniac”.
There was such a range on names, the blond could have told the other, but his paranoia blocked a decision, yelling, screaming even, at him, telling him to stay away, to simply leave and never spend a thought about this man, but the pole knew, backing away would be a sign of weakness, of fear and abject trepidation. He didn’t feel any of that, felt nothing, as his blueish eyes would watch the dark haired boy out of the corner, hands sliding down to do a similar pose, though not to mirror him.
"Radek Tomiczek. What’s yours?"
”You may call me Montparnasse.”
Taken from the cemetery where his mother lies— a new name to cover up his real name among the array of fake identities he could have thought of bringing up. He too goes by many names— dandy of the sepulcher—murderer— assassin—..
Even so he decides to use his cover. Use the name he has grown so familiar with as his gaze wanders over the other man with interest shining through— the smirk only widening as he licks his lips— tentatively taking a step forward to get a proper look at him— out of the shadows he’s currently residing in.
Laurence closed his eyes for a few moments and nuzzled his brother lightly, just holding him close for a few moments. “We’re gonna get you home,” he promised quietly, lightly stroking his hair. “I’ll fix you up, take good care of you, cher, but if we run into anyone else on the way I might need to put you down, all right?” He pressed a warm kiss to the top of his head, readjusting his arms so he’d be able to carry him. “Hang on tight to me.”
Slowly he stood, cradling the younger Montparnasse in his arms like a child.
Christophe made sure to wrap his arms securely around his brother’s neck, holding onto him tightly as he sought his warmth, lidding his eyes halfway.
He wasn’t sure how long time had passed, only remembered the worst parts— being struck with objects and the—horrifying pain and how— even how much he fought it didn’t stop. Never stopped. As he pressed his face into his brother’s neck he released a shaking sigh, his fingers curling into the fabric of his suit.
” ‘M cold—,” what the only thing he could muster to mutter to him, his voice raw and strained.
Jehan leaned forward for a moment, but pulled back. He didn’t want to crowd Montparnasse. Not right now. He instead squeezed his hand very gently and then moved to step out of the car. “I’ll leave the keys with you, okay? I’ll be as fast as I can.”
He didn’t want to leave the man alone. It didn’t feel as though the man was feeling well enough to be alone just yet. He tried to smile reassuringly at him. “I love you.” He said softly, before closing the door and hurrying into the diner.
He’d ask him his questions when they got home.
”—I—.. I love you too,” he mumbled, waiting until Jehan was out of the car before he locked the doors, curling slightly into himself. Nowhere he looked was safe, watching his boyfriend walk away from the car.
His gaze glided over the people passing and walking— pondering on whether or not they ever felt this unsafe— insecure as they laughed and— he turned away. Allowing his hands to fall he released a shaking sigh, watching his hands tremble in his lap as the knot in his chest only tightened—- wishing Jehan would come back quick so he could release the tension pent up inside of him.
Only when he saw Jehan return did he unlock the door for him, still not looking at him properly.
“Please, do not panic.
I am nothing but a consequence,
I mean you no harm.”
Hands were gently shifting through the various souls in his arms, trying to find the easiest way to hold them.
Thin lips pursed, and dark eyes remained locked to this other.
How common it was.
“I am what I say I am,
My name is Death, and I hope that is all you need to know.”
”—- And you’re here now because?”
Narrowing his eyes— his brows as he watches the man with the hint of a smirk lingering upon his lips.
Anything to mask the fear up.
Now is not the time— not for him he thinks. Not now with the blood of someone else still lingering at his hands after the last kill.
”.. How come I can see you?”
You too. *he hums and reclines on the bed, cuddling with him. He inclines his head further and cups him under the chin, guiding him upwards into a soft kiss*
-With a soft smile he kisses him back, shivering as he pulls the covers further onto his bare shoulders.-
You know, *he mutters thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair* I honestly don’t know how people handle themselves when we’re around. I mean, we are two gorgeous men, let’s be honest.
Very true.. -Christophe closes his eyes, burrowing his face into his brother’s chest with a content hum-
aaa friend no pls cuddles u shh
my writing style could best be described as “probably more commas than is entirely necessary”