<blockquote>Paul Verlaine and Arthur Rimbaud spend a romantic winter in London together. The screamy, stabby, drunken sort of romantic.
“Do it then!” Rimbaud yelled, tearing at his undershirt, baring his chest.
“Stop it!” Paul screamed back. “Why cannot you understand? Selfish little fucking…I should stab you through the heart, if you had one.”
“If I had one? What do you have in place of one, you pathetic drunk? An empty gin bottle?” Rimbaud started to laugh.</blockquote>
➤ prior to today I knew nothing about these horrible disasters of human beings but I was riveted by this fic about them being horrible with each other
