bakerstreet | Nursed back to health - and a little something more.

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Nursed back to health - and a little something more.

Nursed Back to Health
shipping meme

Comment with your character, preferences, preferred role, and any information you'd like to include.
Your character has either been injured/sick and had to be taken in (possibly against their will) or has been the one to help somebody like the former. Through the mending process, the two characters in a thread have fallen in love - or at least grown closer and more affectionate.
Reply to others.
Thread.

[ either/or works for him. OTA for gen and for shipping, with m/m preference for the latter. ]

Will keeps to himself, as a rule.

By this point, it's not even a conscious decision most of the time. It's just the sum total of a lot of instinctual choices: Live out in the middle of the woods. Own so many dogs he can't easily go out for too long on work outings with colleagues. Don't offer up any personal information without being directly asked, and give no one incentive to do that asking.

Will's car rattles down the dirt road towards his house. When he hears a dog bark a bit too close by, he jolts out of his drive-home autopilot, blinking in the fading daylight. Did one of them get out? Did Will not lock the front door?

As he pulls into his driveway, though, Will sees the reason for the circling of dogs. Gabriel sits on his front steps, Winston and Toast pressed close against his side. The rest of them come over to Will's car, tails wagging.

"Hey." Will says as he piles out of his car - initially towards Gabriel, but then he has to kneel and take several excited dogs to the knee, petting and shushing and greeting them all at once.

"Did you call me? My-- phone died at work. Forgot my charger today." It's not really like Gabriel to show up unannounced. It's...not really like Gabriel to show up at all, actually.

Will stands up as the sky continues darkening, trepidation in his walk towards his porch.

The longer he was sat on the porch, the less sure Gabriel was that this had been a good idea. He hadn't called Will first, which he knew he should have. He'd had no idea when Will would be home, not idea if he'd even really be welcome. Despite what Will had told him about calling if he needed anything, Gabriel hadn't thought seriously about taking him up on it. He'd been enough trouble already, this was probably the last thing Will needed.

But then today had gone from bad to worse, and this had been the place Gabriel first thought of to go to as he'd gotten himself away from the city.

Gabriel hadn't really been expecting Will to be home - he didn't know what he'd been expecting - but he had found the door unlocked and in seconds had gone from being alone to being surrounded by dogs of varying sizes and breeds. Ushering them back inside had proven next to impossible, and so waiting on the porch had become his only option.

They helped for a little while, distracted him just enough for him to try and calm down. Asides from the blood he'd haphazardly scrubbed away from his knuckles, freshly healed but still shaky, there were no outward signs that he'd been in a fight only an hour before.

All that was left was how hard his pulse raced when he thought back to the scene, playing it back to himself again and again. How the nausea swilling in his gut rose into his throat when he realised he couldn't remember seeing the guy move after he'd loosened his grip on him. Gabriel's only instinct after he'd put space between them had been to run away.

The sound of a car pulling up the drive way pulls him out of his thoughts, pushes back the lump in his chest and replaces it with the familiar sensation that he's about to ruin another of Will's evenings.

Gabriel gets to his feet as Will gets out of his car, albeit with one hand still reaching down to give one of the dogs a final petting.

Clearing his throat in an attempt to keep his voice steady, Gabriel's expression is already a hearty mix of apologetic and anxious, hands unsure of where they should come to rest. "No, no- I should have, I'm sorry."

He's been here for a while and still hasn't thought of how to begin explaining this. Because that would have made things too easy, wouldn't it?

"I'm sorry, I'll go, if you're busy I mean- I know you just got back, I just..I didn't-"

Closing his eyes for a second, Gabriel makes himself take a breath, opening them a second later but not quite looking at Will anymore.

"...This was the first place I thought to come to. Which I know sounds ridiculous...I don't know why."

Will's got his briefcase in his hand, only because one terribly forgetful day of leaving his laptop in his car during summer has trained him better than that. But he gives very little thought to that as he walks over to the porch, dogs trailing behind him.

Gabriel apologizing is expected, but this is...new. Will walks into a wall of guilty shame - and like the way heat waves off pavement create mirages, this one almost distorts reality. It's distracting.

He should look away. He should take a moment to collect himself and breathe, but Will's caught in it. He just stares at Gabriel even while Gabriel looks away, Will's mouth open and tilted down at the corners. "Gabriel."

While it's just Gabriel panicking, it's almost harder to figure out where to start. But then he says that this was the first place he thought to come to, Will feels something - crumple. It's not a calm that washes over him, it's the opposite - the idea that anyone sees him as an acceptable person to run to is...ridiculous.

But it definitely increases the idea that this is his problem to try to help solve. "No, you can-- you can stay." He really isn't sure what else to say.

It takes him a moment, hovering in place, eyes unable to leave Gabriel, before he can make his throat work again. "I know what it's-- like to not want to burden anyone else. But that's not..." He can't even bring himself to go put his briefcase down against the porch fence, although his eye contact fades back down. "Stay. If you want to. I don't mind having you here." Winston bumps against Will's hand, hanging at his side. The edge of Will's mouth twitches. "I don't think anyone else does, either."

When Will gives him permission to stay, Gabriel can practically feel the relief come over him, feel a tiny fraction of the weight he brought with him fall away. This is only temporary, he knows he'll have to go back eventually - but for now, this is good.

In theory at least; Will might have said he doesn't mind having company, but Gabriel knows that he may well still be intruding.

He'd been hoping that the next time they saw each other he wouldn't be in need of help again, if that's even why he's here at all. Really he doesn't know why; he'd just panicked. He needed solitude and open space and this had been the place that registered first.

"Thank you."

It's odd, he realises, hearing someone other than Christian say that they don't mind having him there. Odd but nice. Though another realisation comes to him then, this apology slightly more collected.

"I'm sorry about letting your dogs out, I tried knocking but the door came open and..." his sentence trails as he gestures a little helplessly to Winston and the others. "Once they were out they didn't seem all that interested in going back in."

It's the 'thank you', the slight drop in wound-up tension in the air that finally lets Will break the spell of staring. He sighs and looks away, following the wagging tail of Buster as he snuffs along the side of the porch.

"I'm just lucky they hadn't broken out earlier, then." It's not really like Will to leave his door unlocked.

--Sounds like a terrible metaphor, now that he thinks of it. Will thinks Doctor Lecter might've referred to what's happening right now as fate, or divine symbolism, or something with a term you could only learn from living in Italy for several months.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on them." They can be a lot, after all. Not everyone wants to impromptu babysit seven dogs. Will can finally twitch away to drop his briefcase off to lean against the porch fence, but he doesn't try to open the front door.

He instinctively wants to keep them outside. The air's just - bigger, out here. Makes you feel like maybe your secrets could eke out away from you and evaporate into the atmosphere, instead of hanging around you the way it does when you're in a house, anything with ceilings. It doesn't threaten to choke you as fast, out here. "Do you, uh. Want to sit down?"

Gabriel shrugs and tries smile, wants to sound at ease when he says - "Oh, no problem - it's fine. I like dogs." - but small talk isn't something he's necessarily good at on a normal day. Right now it seems almost asinine.

He's there for a reason, and he knows as Will asks if he wants to sit down he'll have to tell him that reason sooner or later. He just really, really doesn't want to. He doesn't want to just pile all of his worries onto someone else, that's not what he does. He's the one usually doing the listening and not often the one doing the talking.

Still, after another deep breath, he rubs at the back of his neck, head bowed momentarily as he takes the invitation, sitting back down where he'd been waiting only a few minutes before. He tugs his sleeves down slightly over his hands - an action easily (hopefully) blamed on the cold air and nothing more - but he doesn't look at Will yet. Instead just watches the dogs chase each other, like that's all he came here to do.

"...You know you sometimes have those days where you just need to be somewhere or around people that aren't a part of your everyday life?..I think that's why I ended up here. I know it's weird, but...I don't know. All this is just away from everything."

Giving his thumb a break from being absently shredded by the neighbouring nails, Gabriel casts a glance at the open space around them. "I can see why you'd live out here."

So he doesn't have to deal with shit like this, in theory.

Small talk isn't Will's forte either, but he's used to being blasted with it. He hears words filling a void where - politeness should go, or anxiety. A majority of the words people say to each other are all social conventions anyway. 'Good morning.' 'How're you doing?' 'Good, yourself?'

So what's it mean, that Gabriel showed up here to be alone from all that?

--At the very least, it means Will can sympathize. He scoffs as he goes to sit down, both of them on the porch stairs themselves. Will's going to answer with 'Trust me, I know, that's why I live here' but then Gabriel gets to that point first. Will startles with some genuine surprise and then looks off into the distance with Gabriel, mouth twitching unevenly upwards. "Yeah." A sigh lets his features settle back down, some of the nervousness skitter away.

"No acting required. No neighbors to impress. No neighbors to get distracted by." Which is Will's main problem, the inescapable need to notice other people. He watches Gabriel sidelong, settles his forearms against his thighs and loosely clasps his hands. "Only people who actually want to show up here bother to make the trek out."

"Yeah..."

There's a long stint of quiet between them that Gabriel more than happily lets settle; he doesn't want to get to the point. He feels almost tangibly nervous, like he's about to tell Will he's wronged him in some way. It's the fact that this is actually nothing to do with Will that somehow makes it worse. Gabriel's involving him in his mess and his mistake. He knows it's selfish and that Will likely doesn't need this to deal with, Gabriel also knows that the man sitting with him is the only person right now he can safely talk to without things blowing up in his face.

"I hurt someone. Earlier today."

The confession, spoken softly but weighted with guilt, spills out before he can hesitate any more, hands fidgety and bright eyes pointedly looking down at them. Or more specifically, looking anywhere but at Will.

"...Not on purpose, I'd never do that. I was defending myself, but...I'm not sure how badly...I-I didn't check if, ah..."

He doesn't feel better for saying it aloud, not really. If anything it's only made it feel more real. And maybe that's the reason that he lets his sentence trail off. Maybe not finishing it will somehow make the unsaid possibility not happen.

'I hurt someone'. Will was looking away, but now his eyes magnetize to Gabriel, surprise pressed right into the suddenly-blank planes of his face. His usual jittery animation stills, just a bit. Like someone suddenly caught up in mourning.

There's not a lot that's more sobering than the reminder of what it feels like to really, truly hurt someone.

A story comes out in pieces, the outlines of a very grim morning. Will swallows. He can imagine it - bowing down under blows, pushing back and it's too much--

Would Will have stayed to check if the body was alive or dead? Or would he have run, too?

"Lycans are stronger than humans, aren't they?" He asks, and maybe it's not the first question he should be asking, but Will can't help it. He's trying to find the scene in his mind's eye, he's already wondering if it took place in an alley or a store, if there were passive bystanders or jeering ones or if they were alone. "It wouldn't be the first time someone misjudged their strength because they were scared."

Because that's what this is steeped in. That's what roils off of Gabriel, underneath the surface of nerves and hesitation. It's a deeper, colder, numbing fear, and Will thinks that if he put his hand down on the stairs themselves, he'd feel it creeping over towards him like hoarfrost.

His voice doesn't have to be loud for this. It's barely above a whisper. "What happened, Gabriel?"

He means to reply verbally, but all he ends up doing at first is nodding. The motion's sharp and short, his jaw tight as he grits his teeth against the steadily growing lump in his throat. "...I should know better."

No, he does know better. There's no excuse for this, not one that he'll easy accept.

He's had more than enough training, he knows how to defend himself without badly injuring his opponent. But then he also knows how to do the opposite. He knows how easy it is for him to take a life without really trying.

And then Will's asking him what happened, and Gabriel has to remind himself to breathe. Only now does he risk a glance over at Will, fleeting as it may be, brows knitted as he makes himself think back.

"...There was a woman, she was going to her car in one of those, um- those underground parking lots. This group of men followed after her, so I did too, in case anything happened, I don't know...I didn't have some grand plan, I just-"

It sounded ridiculous to him now that he was saying it aloud. Some damn martyr's anecdote or something like that.

"...When it was obvious what was happening, I got their attention so she could get away. And things just escalated from there...it's so stupid, I know what to do in situations like that, I know how to disarm people, I know how to scare them off, but- they were armed, they had silver a-and I don't know, I panicked. I remembered getting shot and I knew I wouldn't get help a second time."

The laugh forced out of his throat is completely devoid of humour, one hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck as he leaned his elbows on his knees, stinging eyes shuttering closed.

"A couple of them left after a while, two of them didn't. One I know is alright, but the other one..."

'A problem shared is a problem halved.' That saying could go fuck itself. Talking about this now, it didn't make Gabriel feel better. It made him want to be sick.

Will sits back and does what he does best - paints a picture in his mind. Replays a scene. He can't very well stand up and act it out, they're not in a parking garage for him to settle into, but he can see it well enough in his head.

Gabriel went after a group that he suspected was going to hurt someone. How did he sense that? Will knows how he
himself would have. Is that what let Gabriel do it, a cutting and too-close idea of what others are wanting, like hooks in his skin? Did he feel an urge to hurt the woman, too, before he turned that aggression on her attackers?

...No. That's wrong. But it brings into stark contrast what's driving Gabriel versus what would have driven Will.

Will doesn't ask questions, doesn't interrupt. Doesn't pepper in anything about if Gabriel called the actual police (Gabriel thinks he killed someone, and he still showed up at Will's house? Will, the ex-cop, the current FBI employee?). Doesn't reprimand him for not checking his own strength, when Gabe should know better, considering his job is in personal security.

He listens with a quiet, shared horror on his face, though. There isn't a part of Will that isn't tilted towards Gabriel, that isn't focused entirely on this exercise of walking back through what happened earlier with him.

When Will breathes in, the air is a cold rush in his lungs, even though it's barely gathering evening and it's still heavy, late August. Why had Gabriel gotten so caught up in that woman's plight, why had he been so scared afterwards? Will swallows, eyes on Gabriel like someone under a spell. "You know what that's like, don't you." His gaze tilts down, one shoulder twitching in an aborted, apologetic tic. "Having no one around to help you fight back."

'I knew I wouldn't get help a second time.'

"You felt like you were fighting for your life, didn't you. For a few moments in there, it didn't even matter that you were strong enough to take all of them yourself." Will swallows. "All that mattered was that you knew they hated you, and you know what hate makes people capable of."

All of the interruptions Will might have said would have been met with similar responses; I know, it's ridiculous. I should have walked away, shouldn't have let myself get emotional. I shouldn't have come here. They're all points Gabriel's run through a hundred times already, and each time he berates himself harder.

Had it been Christian in danger, he knows none of this would be happening now. There wouldn't be this guilt, this sense of fear, nothing. Because Gabriel would be doing his job then. He might have even been rewarded for it.

The second it's only him in the firing line, everything changes. And it's that which only adds to the turmoil he's in now.

He only looks to Will when he really registers what he's saying; that he's trying to sympathise, trying to understand. While they've only known each other a short while - a few months, maybe? - Gabriel's glad he knows him. Glad he knows someone willing to put up with him long enough to listen.

Must say a lot about him. The fact that the only other person he has to talk to asides from his charge is the man who he met in less than desirable circumstances, one with a gunshot and one in his pyjamas.

"...If they hadn't been armed, it would have been different. Not that that makes it better-" he adds quickly, "-I know it doesn't. I just...I saw silver and something in me just..switched off for a second."

Just the memory of it is enough to send a shiver through him.

"They don't understand- they don't have to carry it - if we all just spent our evenings attacking people then yes, I'd get it. I'd understand the hatred then, but we don't. It's excessive and cruel - silver stops us from being able to heal, it hurts like nothing else- and it's not just adult Lycans that get targeted, it's teenagers, kids. No one that young should know what--"

Gabriel cuts himself off when realises he's rambling, letting anger begin to soak into each word. Although he hasn't raised his voice or cursed, he still takes a deep breath, shaking his head as he turns his face away from Will for a moment or two.

"...Sorry. Sorry, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have come here, I shouldn't be dumping all this on you."

But I have no one else. Christ. When did he get so bad at keeping his problems to himself? He's lasted this long, and now look at him.

Momentary panic. Triggered by an object Gabriel has more than enough reason to fear. Will's heard the rumors - hell, he's removed a silver bullet for Gabriel himself, in his one and only attempt at surgery on someone still alive - but it's even worse, listening to the symptoms be said in that voice.

Because Gabriel has a very even voice, all things considered. He reminds Will almost of Jack, on Gabe's best days - on his worst days, of course, the consistent tone just makes him sound like a-- Well. Like a trauma victim, shocky and soft.

Will has to swallow against something sour in his mouth, while anger gathers in Gabriel's voice. It's not loud, there's no voices threats, but the anger itself is - liquid. Raw. Will thinks of bloodied meat and his stomach twists.

It's not Gabriel Will feels a bite of fear towards, though. It's everything that's put that anger in Gabe's voice.

"You didn't have anywhere else to go, though." Will says, following his own linked train of thought, unaware just how much it mirrors Gabriel's own. "I'm not about to ask you to leave." Said with hunched shoulders but tilting just a little more towards Gabriel, words carefully slotted into place between them. Will's not always...good at this part. Is historically bad at it, in fact, at wrapping a situation up in anything approaching a comforting way.

"You're not-- Something you did while provoked, while-- while terrified..." The word is dramatic, certainly, but there's nothing about this event that isn't steeped in drama. Will says it with conviction, not a hint of judgment. "To someone who's being intentionally cruel? That doesn't make you-- you're not like them, Gabriel. That part isn't what would make you like them."

The line of thought is so close to his, for a split second, Gabriel's distracted, and then even more so by the fact that he's not being asked to leave. While he likely knew he wouldn't be, there was the anxiety that this time would be the day he was told to get lost. That this time would be the occasion that confirmed his belief that he was a burden, and society's that he was trouble and nothing more.

He doesn't know if he agrees with what Will's telling him; how can he be so different from them if he left someone in the dark, wounded or for dead? It's like the circumstances still haven't quite registered with him, only the act itself.

But, he says none of this. Just forces down the lump in his throat and draws his brows together, determined not to have a complete meltdown. It's tempting, and the more they talk about this the harder it is to keep it all back. His nails dig crescent moons into his palm, while the other hand goes up to rub his eyes, like he's not rested in days. Like today has erased a week's worth of sleep.

"That's not what it feels like.."

Will's face crumples at Gabriel's continued insistence. Pity isn't useful, doesn't solve anything, but Will can't help but feel these wounds, these doubts, like they're his. And - maybe in some ways, they are.

Will swallows. This confession comes out quieter than anything else so far. "I've-- killed someone. Shot a suspect while he was holding a knife to his daughter's throat. He'd just killed his wife." Will sighs and tells himself he doesn't see Garrett Jacob Hobb's skin in the yellow-white of the porch railing paint, that he can't hear him hissing in his ear. "That's not a choice I get to-- to take back. Just like you can't take this back, whether or not that man is dead.

"So it might not help," Will adds, eyes squinted almost shut and eyebrows raised in apology. "But I know-- I know what that feels like." His face smooths out now, like giving into a void that he's thinking they both know a little bit about. He tilts closer, barely conscious of moving. "When a situation just spirals out of your control and you end up being the last person still standing afterwards."

Will's own confession temporarily eclipses Gabriel's own worry, muffling the noise in his head in sheer disbelief. Disbelief at first, closely followed by curiosity as Will explains himself. Gabriel looks at him as he describes what happened, brows coming together in an apologetic look of his own; he's sorry to hear that happened to the family involved, sorry that Will had to be the one to make a decision like that.

Gabriel's not like Will, he can't imagine the scene being described to him with any real accuracy or clarity. He'd love to be able to say he can't imagine that happening to anyone or that anyone would do such a thing to their own family, but he knows people are capable of almost anything at either end of the spectrum.

Yet, in a small way, it helps.

When a couple of the dogs come running over, Gabriel holds out one hand to one of them, letting him sniff at him and bump into his hand for attention before running up the porch steps past them.

"..It does a little, yeah..thanks for telling me." Was it weird to thank him? Too late now, but it's still a thought that strikes him as soon as he's said it. "...I'm sorry that happened to you."

Will's first instinct is to turn away the apology, the sign of compassion. No, no, he didn't share it as a confession for himself, he almost says. His face flickers with the urge to push Gabe's words aside, brow gathering an embarrassed crumple.

But - no. That's not the main message here-- pity. The main message that Will's trying to fish from the air is definitely compassion, and Gabe's sentiment is clearly there.

"It's-- I mean it's not 'alright', Nothing about any of this is alright, but it's-- I'm dealing with it." Will swallows. "Like how you're dealing with it."

Will's tried to comfort people on only very rare occasions. But it's always come from a very sincere place, it's something he feels deeply; a compulsion that he follows with shaking hands but steady breath.

Watching Gabe sidelong, watching Toast nuzzle at his hand before wagging on up the rest of the porch stairs, Will takes a breath.

And then leans forward, one of his forearms still resting against his own thigh, one hand going up to rest on Gabe's shoulder. He keeps his fingers together, palm flat, but he squeezes there. It's a hesitant thing to land but it's confident once it's there.

"You don't always have to-- I know you're used to not talking about things. I think we've got that in common." Will's mouth opens with a gallows-humor smile, almost sickly in the dimming sunlight. They've never really talked about - this, since their first meeting. The fact that Gabriel's a Lycan, and what that must mean for his every day life. Will can imagine it, can remember the sickening fear coming off of him in the woods.

"But you don't ever have to apologize for showing up here to talk." It's the closest Will can get to a direct, open invitation for this, and he means it.

Gabriel doesn't flinch away from the hand resting on his shoulder, but it does surprise him a little bit. They know each other better than when they first met, and it's only gotten clearer that Will isn't all that comfortable with touch, which is fine. Gabriel's not one to hug everyone he meets, it's not an issue for him if he has to avoid it.

Perhaps it's because this time he's fully clothed. That's always a big help.

For the first time since coming here, Gabriel feels himself smile. It's not as wide as it could be, but it is grateful all the same. Not talking about things, bottling things up..it gets easier the more you do it. Becomes a habit far too quickly, so much so that this conversation has probably been more effort on his - or both - their parts than was necessary.

He hasn't left the real world behind by coming here. There's still a good chance he'll have a shit-show waiting for him when he gets back, but right now he doesn't know when that'll be. Later tonight, in ten minutes...for now, he wants to enjoy the fact that someone's willing to have him here.

"...Thank you. I appreciate that." Not that coming here to do that will likely get much easier if he ever needs to, the alarm bell in his head reminding him he's being a burden will likely never get any quieter. But having the option makes a nice change.

"I mean, I probably still will - apologise that is. But thank you."

That smile makes this easier.

Will is very bad at being honest with himself about what he needs. He's gotten too good, perhaps, at living on his own, at convincing himself that his baseline loneliness is just how he should feel.

But that smile makes it a little easier to maintain eye contact, to smile back. There's not the pressure of small talk stretched ahead of them, there's not the tedium of awkward moments to explain away behind them. Gabriel makes it almost disarmingly easy to be with another person, sometimes.

Something like laughter trickles out, quiet and short, when Gabe warns Will he'll probably still be apologizing. "And I'll probably still never really understand what you get out of being around me." He agrees, joking even though he's absolutely serious. "But-- you're welcome." As weird as it feels to tell someone 'you're welcome' in exchange for human decency, like an ill-fitting suit.

There's a beat, then, when Will wonders if anything else is expected. Is allowed. Having a hand on Gabe's shoulder doesn't feel bad. If anything, it's like noticing that you'd been limping for months and you've just finally taken weight off that leg. The sudden lack of pain is foreign but exhilarating.

"I wouldn't-- mind seeing you more." Is what his brain comes up with. Will clears his throat and removes his hand from Gabe's shoulder, both palms coming down to scrub against the tops of his thighs. "I mean, if you're free."

"Because you...you get it, I guess."

'It' being the knowledge of what it's like not to want to trouble anyone else. It's the fact Will doesn't expect him to be anything or do anything or act a certain way. That, and he treats Gabriel like a person. Those are the two speeds Gabriel's life goes at; hatred and fear from strangers, and misuse from those few who know him personally, with only one or two exceptions.

But he doesn't let all that out now; just a more nut-shelled version.

"..You're not afraid of me. You let me talk. That doesn't happen much."

He's aware of Will moving his hand, but it's what Will says as he does so that really draws Gabriel's attention back to him. The surprise in his expression isn't quite as subtle as he might like, but it's a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

"Oh- yeah. Yeah, that'd be good."

It's...awkward, in a familiar way. Yet at the same time it's not. They know each other well enough to know they don't need small talk, but they're both still figuring out where their comfort zones match up. Where they meet in the middle. Right now that middle ground seems to be Will's porch, and Gabriel's okay with that.

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Nursed back to health - and a little something more.

Gabriel Starling | OC

emotionally nursing back to health??

the only kind these two need, lbr

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this isn't late time is a man-made concept and we're all dying slowly

Nursed back to health - and a little something more.

Gabriel Starling | OC

*emotionally* nursing back to health??

the only kind these two need, lbr

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this isn't late time is a man-made concept and we're all dying slowly

emotionally nursing back to health??