T. B. Stevenson Writing

“You were supposed to sit here, Ecter,” he whispered, blinking as his eyeballs started to burn. “After what you did, it should've be..

“Ahem,” he coughed as loudly as he could, brows drawn together in irritated confusion. “Excuse me?” The stranger lazily turned..

He wasn't a beautiful boy. But he had been the closest thing that you were ever going to know.