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A Privilege


[Her head snaps back over her shoulder at his words, wisps of ebony hair blurring into her vision. She stares at him; limp blonde hair falling into too blue eyes, always a little too sad, watching something far off. The edges of his lips tiredly etched upward. Her own part at the image he makes, and by the time she's stepped towards him, by the time her hands are tenderly holding his face, her lips whisper against his, "You're the privilege, Kenny."]

Art by arvyuula@tumblr.com

11 tracks
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