Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-10-18 09:00 pm
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in thecapitol2013-10-18 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
Our Love is Quicksand [Closed]
Who| Howard and Eponine
What| Breakup 2: Electric Boogaloo
When| Two weeks after aliens.
Where| District 3 Suites
Warnings/Notes| None yet.
It takes him a good week to work up the nerve to talk to Eponine. During that time he picks at his lips so badly he's torn strips of skin down to his chin, leaving him with painful scabs. His cuticles are worn down to reddened, cracks nubs. Despite having recovered from the flu, if anything he looks even more sickly. Dark circles have formed under his eyes, and a twitch keeps jerking his head slightly to the side. The stress of the Arena is nothing on the stress of romance.
He only manages to psych himself up in the slightest hours of the morning, when the sun is just a smudge of pink on the horizon. He stays in the hallways watching it a moment before picking the lock into District 3, before heading into the suite and standing outside Eponine's door.
At long last, he knocks. He knows she's in there, knows that the Escorts wouldn't let her sleep in the alley for long.
He rests his forehead against the door. "Eponine? Epsy-Daisy? Eponine, please open up. I love you. Eponine. Please."
What| Breakup 2: Electric Boogaloo
When| Two weeks after aliens.
Where| District 3 Suites
Warnings/Notes| None yet.
It takes him a good week to work up the nerve to talk to Eponine. During that time he picks at his lips so badly he's torn strips of skin down to his chin, leaving him with painful scabs. His cuticles are worn down to reddened, cracks nubs. Despite having recovered from the flu, if anything he looks even more sickly. Dark circles have formed under his eyes, and a twitch keeps jerking his head slightly to the side. The stress of the Arena is nothing on the stress of romance.
He only manages to psych himself up in the slightest hours of the morning, when the sun is just a smudge of pink on the horizon. He stays in the hallways watching it a moment before picking the lock into District 3, before heading into the suite and standing outside Eponine's door.
At long last, he knocks. He knows she's in there, knows that the Escorts wouldn't let her sleep in the alley for long.
He rests his forehead against the door. "Eponine? Epsy-Daisy? Eponine, please open up. I love you. Eponine. Please."