In the awkward silence of Ink's bedroom, Dream lazes, warrior cats book in hand. Ink's walls are covered in paintings of flowers, trees, suns, moons, and more. It makes him dizzy to look at, so he stares at his book, reading about wholesome cat genocide.
"Stay still," Ink admonishes, sketchbook and mechanical pencil in hand.
Dream sends him an unimpressed look, but quits his self-conscious shifting.
Dream has no clothes on, per Ink's request.
Ink's door is locked only per Dream's request.
Someone has tried to open it a total of five times, and Dream is very thankful for his previous foresight. He's read enough forbidden cat romances fall through because of idiocy.
Not like it's forbidden, exactly.
Just a bit weird.
Neither of them seem to mind, though.
Slowly, Dream starts to kick his legs, above him on the bed. Ink gasps, clutching his pearls, and goes several vibrant shades of the rainbow.
Creep, Dream thinks, amused, and snorts to himself.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe contemplate hell before absolving yourself from it
أدب الهواة"Dream are you seriously reading warrior cats right now?" Dream looks up. "Sorry, should I be doing something else right now?" "Well, uh-" Ink stammers, looking down at his tasteful rendition of the Mona Lisa throwing gang signs and wearing gold ch...
