SGA Drabble

[annundriel]

Rodney is no poet. He doesn’t see the world in fourteen lines or absent punctuation. His world is made up of equations, letters and numbers strung together creating a language he can understand. When his mind drifts, he sees the many variables of John’s smiles and the warm curve of his palms, the sharp angle of his shoulders and the gentle slope of his neck, the vulnerable arches of his feet.

He’s never admitted to John that he’s become essential to his continued existence.

But John’s soft smile, the tilt of his head, let Rodney know he feels the same.