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    Summary

    Sunday doesn't like the way his clothes stick to the distortion's skin, or the way his halo hangs above its head. He has abandoned all that made him Sunday Oak, yet they can't seem to abandon him in return.

    This is how sins work, he supposes. They follow you. They speak to you, their hands grab at you. He just didn't think they'd be this warm.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,649
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    38
    Kudos:
    210
    Bookmarks:
    31
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