It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, any more than it mattered that Robin’s hair shone like polished wood in the sunlight, or that he’d rolled his sleeves up past his elbows again and Edwin wanted to trace the veins and tendons of those well-cut rower’s forearms with his own fingertips, learn their textures, make a small sensory memory for himself to pull out on quiet nights in front of the fire.
Edwin.... Thst was pretty gae of you....
