Blurry

- 15 -

"I look like a dad." A now disgrunted Norman muttered, walking out of the dressing room with his arms crossed over his chest. Ethan raised a brow from his seat, visibly holding back laughter. The taller remembering who he was talking to, eyes widening. "Shit, right, I'm talking to a father...I didn't mean that in a bad way!" He was quick to try and save the statement, his face heating up.

Ethan burst into laughter, nearly falling off the plush bench he had been waiting on. He tried catching his breath, looking at the flustered taller man with amusement sparkling in his eyes. His eyes looked like the ocean in the sun, water glistening with a peaceful shine. The ex-agent was just relieved he didn't offend the other man, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think you look great, buuut only one of us can pull that look off in the house," the architect spoke with a crooked grin.

Norman chuckled a bit, half smiling in response. "Well, what look can I pull off?" He asked, raising a brow. "Nothing too crazy, my future style is in your hands." He leaned against the frame to keep the changing room claimed, watching Ethan jokingly salute and walk back to the store. The man waited, growing bored quickly and shutting the door, tugging off the shirt and hanging it up. He looked at himself in the mirror, running his fingers over varies scars and bruises on his body. Most of them were healing, but a few were never going to fade. At least those came way before that case. He turned to look at his back, relieved it wasn't as bad looking as the rest of his upper body.

"Christ. I should've been more careful," he muttered to himself, rubbing his fingers through his hair. He hated looking in the mirror still. "Damn triptocaine," he added in a quieter mutter. He sat down at the small excuse of a stool, closing his eyes. He felt tired, almost worn out. He looked forward to a peaceful rest, hopefully. If another nightmare occured, he'd deal with it on his own. Ethan needed sleep anyway. He didn't know how much sleep the man had been getting lately, let alone last night.

Breakups sounded like a hassle. Losing sleep and heartbreak, and however much time had been thrown away and memories gone sour. He wondered if he was just bitter or felt too many breakups without romance. Norman frowned at the memory of not much love being shown towards him. He could deal with being single, but he felt so touch starved that he ached. Maybe the aching was caused by the touches Ethan had given him.
He thankfully wasn't so deep in his thoughts that he couldn't hear footsteps coming towards the door, tugging on the sweater he wore before. Thankfully, the panic was lessened by the knock that sounded. He got up, opening the door and nearly stumbled back from the large amount of clothes pushed into his arms.

Ethan gave an encouraging smile before shutting the door, and returned to waitibg. Norman barely managed to sort out the clothes, picking a random shirt to tug on. He looked in the mirror and raised a brow in surprise. A muscle shirt, which made him feel confused. Then he noticed the text on it and looked down to read it.

'Fuck the police'

The ex-agent grinned and nearly laughed. Ethan really did know him well, which felt heart melting. The shirt suited him well, even if he never would need to deal with the police again...hopefully. He made sure that the damage done on his body from the time at the hospital before opening the door to look at the architect, unable to hide a grin. "You know me well, I'm surprised, Mars."

Ethan raised a brow, grinning victoriously. "Of course I do, you're my friend, Norm." The man looked at the shirt and gave a nod of approval. "You look great in that, by the way." He added, giving a thumbs up of approval. The ex-agent felt his heart skip a beat at the words, laughing softly. He felt happy, for once. It was almost like being drunk, but without the dread of a hangover or throwing up...or doing something incredibly stupid.
He liked this happy-drunken state Ethan made him feel.