You Thought I Was Pretty
[http://archiveofourown.org/works/7497597] - - public:opalsong
The blood spurts and streaks sharply across Cole’s face, landing on his tongue, salty and sweet and coppery, before it pools and spreads, steaming, shimmering, a stark slash of red staining the once bright whiteness of the snow. With each stuttering throb of an increasingly desperate heart, Cole’s own heart beats faster, white-hot heat pooling low in his stomach, the ache stealing his breath.
