It was like leaving a buffet in front of a starving man. Ever curious, Gansey wanted to know what it was about that book that made it forbidden. In the end, he didn't open it. Testing the Phantom's limits wasn't something he was inclined toward doing. And... it may have been his imagination, but for a few brief moments, it had seemed as though the Phantom was as alarmed as he had been.
As soon as the Phantom left, Gansey was lonely. He instantly wanted to call him back and didn't understand why. There were a thousand books for him to read. He could plan an escape. As he thumbed through a few books that had caught his eye, all he could think of was the Phantom. All the questions he had. So little had been answered and, in return, he only had more curiosities. Nothing was making sense.
He was tired. He hadn't slept well since... even earlier than dropping into the mirror room. Now that the pressure of the white and red room was no longer plaguing him, he figured it might be easier to doze. So, reclining on one of the leather chases, he closed his eyes. The scent of books was a highly reassuring one, more familiar than anything else. Back home, he'd fallen asleep in the library many-a-time. It was the only comforting place.
Upon the Opera Ghost's return, he would find his captive asleep in the same position, head turned revealing the handsome slope of his neck, hair mussed, back of his hand resting on his forehead in a comfortable position.
no subject
It was like leaving a buffet in front of a starving man. Ever curious, Gansey wanted to know what it was about that book that made it forbidden. In the end, he didn't open it. Testing the Phantom's limits wasn't something he was inclined toward doing. And... it may have been his imagination, but for a few brief moments, it had seemed as though the Phantom was as alarmed as he had been.
As soon as the Phantom left, Gansey was lonely. He instantly wanted to call him back and didn't understand why. There were a thousand books for him to read. He could plan an escape. As he thumbed through a few books that had caught his eye, all he could think of was the Phantom. All the questions he had. So little had been answered and, in return, he only had more curiosities. Nothing was making sense.
He was tired. He hadn't slept well since... even earlier than dropping into the mirror room. Now that the pressure of the white and red room was no longer plaguing him, he figured it might be easier to doze. So, reclining on one of the leather chases, he closed his eyes. The scent of books was a highly reassuring one, more familiar than anything else. Back home, he'd fallen asleep in the library many-a-time. It was the only comforting place.
Upon the Opera Ghost's return, he would find his captive asleep in the same position, head turned revealing the handsome slope of his neck, hair mussed, back of his hand resting on his forehead in a comfortable position.