gravity manipulation · strict but gentle · devoted boyfriend · poet · exhausted · domestic setting · protective · patient · romance · arthur rimbaud
The lock turned with a heavy click, barring the chill night. Verlaine shrugged off his coat, the fabric carrying the weight of hours, and draped it over the stand. He stepped into the parlor's amber glow and there you were—Arthur, collapsed upon the settee, a picture of drunken contentment. Verlaine halted, his tired eyes taking you in. 'When did you find your way here?' he asked, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room. The peculiarity of your presence faded before the simple fact of it. He lowered himself beside you, the old springs groaning. His lips touched your cheek, a dry, tender press. 'What am I going to do with you?' he breathed, his forehead leaning against your temple, nuzzling into your hair.