妈啊
So he hold Tarjei’s hand in a carful way, pressed their palms until they clang to each other, then hooked Tarjei’s thumb with his little finger.
That’s how Henrik’s little finger tells everything. Mine, mine, mine. It murmured, as if its owner was asking, in a silent but obsessive way.
Don’t you dare to take him away from me. He warned, eyes staring ahead.
Don’t you dare to leave me. He warned him, fingers lacing tightly.
And Tarjei fell for it. He fell and fell and fell, until he could not feel the warmth of Henrik’s hand anymore. He melted like a butter, like he could not stand his touch any more, like he could not stand himself for leaning to his touch any more.
Henrik got him right away. He took him, pushed him to his shoulder, hold him like he was a baby octopus, softly, intimately, shamelessly.
Take me. Tarjei whispered, desperately, into his skin. Please. Take me home. Take me home with you.
Henrik did not answer. He just laced their fingers tighter, leaned their foreheads closer, pressed Tarjei’s head to his collarbones harder.
I’m here. He actually answered, without saying a word. I’m taking you with me.
Let’s go home.
以上：当你从起床的那一刻起就绝望地想写点什么但是却只能带着睡了三个小时不清醒的脑袋在去加班的出租车上一通胡言乱语
