[Ivar leans his head on Dodger's shoulder, closing his eyes, and just inhales his boyfriend's scent for a moment, that familiar mixture of drugs, smoke, alcohol, and something that was uniquely him. He sighs and doesn't let go. He's been more worried then he wanted to admit, unable to cope with the idea Dodger might have once again left him. It speaks volumes to the fact that he's wearing Dodger's old beaten-up hoodie right now and has been for about the past week.
He opens up his eyes and looks at Dodger, really looks at him to take in all his wounds and new scars. He moves one of his hands down, gently taking one of Dodger's hands in his own. It's the same one he's just cut. He brings it up to his lips, gently tracing the busted knuckles and still-bleeding palm feather-light with his lips, showing Dodger what he really thinks rather then just using his words. Finally, he lets go.]
no subject
He opens up his eyes and looks at Dodger, really looks at him to take in all his wounds and new scars. He moves one of his hands down, gently taking one of Dodger's hands in his own. It's the same one he's just cut. He brings it up to his lips, gently tracing the busted knuckles and still-bleeding palm feather-light with his lips, showing Dodger what he really thinks rather then just using his words. Finally, he lets go.]
Alright. So talk.