The scariest thing in the world.
Who: Donald W. Blackburn & Jonathan Crane Where: Jonathan's apartment When: TODAY. RIGHT NOW. AT NIGHT. Why: Snuggles? Rating: Probably naughty.
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There was a routine now for preparing himself to go to Jonathan's place, and it went as follows: attempt to shave, nurse his shave-wounds, splash on some cologne, cry about the excruciatig pain he had put himself in, take a shower to wash it all off, and limp morosely to his apartment. He had a particularly downtrodden expression on his face when he buzzed to be let in, mainly due to the fact that he hadn't been sleeping too well over the last few days.
"Jonathaaaaaan..." He groaned, his head in his hands. "Let me innnn..."
He had dark circles under his eyes, and perhaps a hint of eyeliner--he'd had a long night. Plus, he always had to look pretty. Right? RIGHT?
He buzzed again, impatient to be let in. But in a good way. It was a sweet sort of impatient.