slipping (strickler/kaz)

Strickler is a choice.

Kazimir tells himself this. Strickler is a choice; he is his choice. He does what and goes where he wants, and who he wants is this uptight man with his smooth voice and his ridiculous hair and his vulnerability in the night when he says, I still hear them laughing sometimes.

He tells himself this.

He feels the knife slipping from his hand, and all he can do is pretend his sweaty, shaking fingers guide the blade instead of gripping tight in whatever direction it will go.

Kazimir does not expect this to last. But he can, maybe, manage a little longer.