[standing directly under a neon light is always immediately obvious — and not just because of the buzz that one brings to his ears; there's a heat that radiates off of them, too, in the air and on what's left of exposed skin, even on the coldest nights. before the stranger even opens his mouth, that's exactly what fills matt's senses: a buzz, a heat.
his breath is as clipped as the words he barely hears. if the force of his own pulse weren't enough to nearly knock him off balance despite sitting down, then what sits in the air between them — close, but not enough to touch — almost manages the job.
matt digs his fingernails into his palms, and tries to breathe, slowly, to focus; it barely helps at all.]
I think whatever hit you — [he swallows, but it doesn't do anything; the strain is still in his voice, even more pronounced than before.] hit me, too.
[so he tries clearing his throat.]
Did you eat something out here?
[that doesn't do anything, either. he still sounds the same.]
no subject
his breath is as clipped as the words he barely hears. if the force of his own pulse weren't enough to nearly knock him off balance despite sitting down, then what sits in the air between them — close, but not enough to touch — almost manages the job.
matt digs his fingernails into his palms, and tries to breathe, slowly, to focus; it barely helps at all.]
I think whatever hit you — [he swallows, but it doesn't do anything; the strain is still in his voice, even more pronounced than before.] hit me, too.
[so he tries clearing his throat.]
Did you eat something out here?
[that doesn't do anything, either. he still sounds the same.]