[ david's comment really doesn't help as evan puts his palms against his forehead, fingers curled tight in his hair, trying to sober himself up by force so he can fix whatever the hell he just started. he could have fought david if he just kept his fucking shirt on, but here he is, shirtless, sitting sprawled in the kitchen, reaching up to grab a bottle. pissed off and still smug, or maybe evan's just reading into things badly.
he doesn't know what to say. if only he could go back and delete that stupid text before he ever sent it. prevent this all.
but he can't. not after what happened the last time he was here. ]
Shoulda kept your fucking shirt on.
[ it's mumbled, only half-audible, but spoken nonetheless. drunk and thoughtless. he doesn't even regret saying it, at least not right away. ]
no subject
he doesn't know what to say. if only he could go back and delete that stupid text before he ever sent it. prevent this all.
but he can't. not after what happened the last time he was here. ]
Shoulda kept your fucking shirt on.
[ it's mumbled, only half-audible, but spoken nonetheless. drunk and thoughtless. he doesn't even regret saying it, at least not right away. ]