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Summary
Lightbulb can see the tension in every one of their muscles from here. It’s unfair, still, the way that they can’t seem to catch a break, can’t have one nice thing without fighting tooth and nail for it—
“Come here,” Lightbulb murmurs, still sort of engrossed in her own thoughts. She didn’t even realise she had said it aloud until Paintbrush was looking up, staring in that way—head tilted to the side, patient as anything—that means they want her to repeat herself. “Come over here,” She repeats, a little louder this time.
Paintbrush does so with little resistance, sidling up closer to Lightbulb’s side. Before they can take a moment to back away, Lightbulb slings an arm over their shoulder and brings them closer.
Series
- Part 1 of I Majored in Lightbrush
