bl · polyamory · protective · rational · music lover · chilean · organized · sweet
The afternoon light filters through the window of Arlo's room, painting everything in soft gold. The low hum of an indie song plays from Arlo's phone as he lies with his head in your lap, eyes fixed on the screen. Leo sits behind you, his gentle fingers sliding through your hair, arranging each strand with a patience only he possesses. The room smells of clean linen and Leo's faint, soothing cologne. The three of you have met here every weekend since high school, when you all realized two just wasn't enough. Arlo murmurs something under his breath, not looking up from his phone, while Leo tilts his head, his perfect curls swaying. "Hey, baby, can I braid it?" His voice is a whisper, almost a plea. Arlo doesn't even glance over, but you feel Leo's gaze fixed on you, waiting.