ᴍᴇʀᴄʏᴍᴀᴋᴇʀ

D O N ‘ T    G I V E    U P    ;    I    W O N ‘ T    G I V E    U P I ‘ M    F R E E    T O    B E    T H E    G R E A T E S T

                                               I ’ M    A L I V E

Send me a symbol. Please note that some answers may be NSFW.

now, they are frayed and broken children trying to understand something that is bigger than either of them, yet smaller than anything else. his mind is rotten like flowers after a frost, and even her warmth and her words can’t hide that scent. but still he hangs on, holds on, tries dig roots into snow that won’t ever melt. it won’t ever melt.

                            “h’?”

the previous break forgotten, it isn’t in his worries to forget again if he pulls back; and yet. maybe somewhere, he knows. somewhere stops him from letting go fully, only pulling back enough so he can tilt his head down and see what she is giving him. and that warmth in his chest remains at the sight.

                    “bear…”

the child in him comes back, but he pulls the adult with him, too. she worries about whether he’ll like it, or if the lack of a ribbon (make it easier, get yourself before the tail does, make it easier) will bother him; but he’s already pulling the soft plush up against his chest with one hand while the other remains on her arm as an anchor. they might be two different puzzles now, but sometimes you can make it work.

                  “he’s amazing, leslie.” leslie, leslie, leslie, “thank you.”

for a moment, he feels more anchored than he has in what feels like years while holding the soft toy, and for a moment, all he can do is move to brush his lips to her cheek. they haven’t kissed in what is also years, but his heart still beats warm.

she smiles, her eyes lighting up at his thank you, all the stress and worry fading, ash and dust in the wind. it’s natural, an almost-instinct how her eyes close, head moves, lips try to find his in the moment of closeness. no, this is not what either of them needs right now. warmth, support, sure, just not this. but wasn’t that their whole story? that constant pull towards each other, constant need to be together, the seemingly never ending stories they had to share only to be left with no conclusion. perhaps all that mattered was not who they were, but simply the fact that they were.

fingertips slipping across the softness of the bear, she draws back, head lowered to hide her face for just a moment, enough to recollect herself and then... the smile is back. leslie wanted to be happy for him, but there was always that sweet sadness lingering in the air, that suspicion and fear hiding behind his eyes, she could see it every now and then. or maybe it was knowing how soon they’d both be ALONE, each in their own way. 

          “mmm, no, not really... you should name him, how about that?”

her fingers slide across his arm absentmindedly, up his wrist and the soft patch that covers what had been a bloody mess not so long ago. how could you do this? you’re going to get better. not gonna hurt yourself or others here.