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Not All Regrets
He remembers that summer fondly, even now. Remembers fags on grey days, pints of shandy on hot ones. Rough-housing on park benches, Deirdre squealing and all of them laughing until they nearly pissed themselves. Remembers sucking Ethan off on a bus' upper deck in the not-dark-enough of night, to the noisy, confused distress of a middle-aged woman on her way home from the theater. Remembers that it wasn't only witching hours and demons, not just blood on his hands and guilt roiling his guts. He was young, he loved, and if he was also reckless, he cannot wholly regret it.
He remembers that summer fondly, even now. Remembers fags on grey days, pints of shandy on hot ones. Rough-housing on park benches, Deirdre squealing and all of them laughing until they nearly pissed themselves. Remembers sucking Ethan off on a bus' upper deck in the not-dark-enough of night, to the noisy, confused distress of a middle-aged woman on her way home from the theater. Remembers that it wasn't only witching hours and demons, not just blood on his hands and guilt roiling his guts. He was young, he loved, and if he was also reckless, he cannot wholly regret it.