Evolwumuti
Edwin looked at him. "If needed, can you write it down? I found that helps me when I can't express what I'm feeling through words, Charles."
And, oh, Charles could've launched himself at Edwin just then. How could a beautiful boy, the most stunning, intricate poetry put into human form, love a broken painting like him? Someone like him couldn't even be repaired. Not redrawn or painted over. People like him were hopeless, far too broken to be fixed. How could someone like Edwin, so beautiful and poetic, such a simple yet beautiful string of words, love someone like him?