[chaos hasn't cut his hair in all the months he's been away, it seems like. his hair has been falling into his eyes lately, almost covering them, but not quite, as a sandy shade of brown that would look good against the distant surf. no inexplicable colors this time. no white, no green, no gradual ombré that combines orange and teal. for the first time in a while, chaos looks less like an exotic drifter than he tends to look. it might be unintentional. it might be a fluke. it might be there's only one person whose attention he wants, and it wouldn't do to have more than their eyes drawn to him.]
i could go heat up some poptarts. i could come back up here and eat them after, but i'd probably get crumbs everywhere. all over your nice sheets. i don't want you to be cross with me. you told me to make myself at home but that doesn't mean making a mess of your things...
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i could go heat up some poptarts. i could come back up here and eat them after, but i'd probably get crumbs everywhere. all over your nice sheets. i don't want you to be cross with me. you told me to make myself at home but that doesn't mean making a mess of your things...