(no subject)

It's been raining on and off all day and, finally, Granby gives up on trying to be productive. He abandons his sketchbook and sprawls on his bed instead, wounded arm pillowed under his head, hand resting on his belly. He dozes, idly and, somewhat inevitably, he thinks about Will. It's a pleasant enough way to spend an afternoon, even if he does feel worn tight in every muscle, like something waiting to explore.

The rain is almost enough to make him homesick.