Kazimir. Don Juan thought he'd had a reason for asking. Now he couldn't recall what it was, but he had the sense that this name might be important for something, at some point. He ought to hang on to it, not let it slip away like so many things did in this state of mind.
He liked that Griffith included his laugh on the list. He may have had few enough occasions to hear it but Don Juan was oddly bolstered by the idea that he'd been paying enough attention to listen. He liked the word ephemera, too. The temporary diversions, the things of a moment, precious for a day and then relegated to the category of useless clutter later. A bloom which was novel only for an afternoon before it began to wilt. Griffith may have been seeing someone else when he looked at him, but he'd still managed to figure Don Juan out pretty well. He had his hand in Don Juan's hair, his other on Don Juan's face.
Either you get in or I get out, he said. Don Juan didn't understand the urgency. He was already partially in the bath, with his arm drifting in the water, and his clothes were soaked. Getting in felt like a needless formality. And it wasn't as though he and Griffith were doing much, either of them. Why not just stay as they were here? Griffith could keep playing with his hair. Don Juan could close his eyes. Maybe eventually he would remember why it was he'd wanted to know Kazimir's name.
"There's no room for me," he protested, voice sounding very distant even to himself. In spite of this lazy protest he moved one hand to the top of his suspender strap and tugged it over. He made it nearly but not quite to the edge of his shoulder before the strap slipped through his fingers and fell back into his damp shirt.
He liked that Griffith included his laugh on the list. He may have had few enough occasions to hear it but Don Juan was oddly bolstered by the idea that he'd been paying enough attention to listen. He liked the word ephemera, too. The temporary diversions, the things of a moment, precious for a day and then relegated to the category of useless clutter later. A bloom which was novel only for an afternoon before it began to wilt. Griffith may have been seeing someone else when he looked at him, but he'd still managed to figure Don Juan out pretty well. He had his hand in Don Juan's hair, his other on Don Juan's face.
Either you get in or I get out, he said. Don Juan didn't understand the urgency. He was already partially in the bath, with his arm drifting in the water, and his clothes were soaked. Getting in felt like a needless formality. And it wasn't as though he and Griffith were doing much, either of them. Why not just stay as they were here? Griffith could keep playing with his hair. Don Juan could close his eyes. Maybe eventually he would remember why it was he'd wanted to know Kazimir's name.
"There's no room for me," he protested, voice sounding very distant even to himself. In spite of this lazy protest he moved one hand to the top of his suspender strap and tugged it over. He made it nearly but not quite to the edge of his shoulder before the strap slipped through his fingers and fell back into his damp shirt.
![[Image: 0hYxCaj.png]](https://i.imgur.com/0hYxCaj.png)
MJ made this <3