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Jimmy turned over, tired eyes creeping open. They had been lying back to back, Jimmy slowly slipping in and out of consciousness on the very brink of sleep until Curly’s voice roused him.
His head was a mess of curls as always, splayed against the nape of his neck and the pillow he laid on. As he too rolled, those same curls framed his face in a way that only added to the pitiful expression on his face.
“Please.” Curly murmured, bright blue eyes somehow dulled by the sentiment in his voice.
Rolling his own, Jimmy gave a non committal sound as he reached out, making room for the much larger man in his arms.
After the many nights he had pried Curly’s arms open after memories had turned to nightmares and crawled into his embrace without so much as asking, he supposed it should be paid forward.
“C’mere then.”
Curly didn’t reply, instead throwing himself into Jimmy’s offered arms and pulling their bodies snug. Warmth he hadn’t realized he missed flooded him, Curly’s heart beating subtly against his chest.
It would’ve looked ridiculous from an outsiders perspective, someone as brawny as Curly huddled against Jimmy, Jimmy’s chin a top his head. But even the image that popped into his head couldn’t ruin the sudden warmth filling his chest as he felt the tremble of Curly’s back and arms around him.
The pathetic sound of a sob followed, and for once Jimmy chose to say nothing. Didn’t toss sarcasm into the ring of emotions, or snark about the fact Curly was a grown man.
He couldn’t. Not when his own arms wrapped around his friend, leaving no space between them, fingers tangling in the blonde hair at his nape.
A sickeningly sweet sensation filled his body, a thrill of warmth shooting down to churn in his stomach.
Curly hadn’t gone to anyone else. He hadn’t left. Hadn’t gone for a drive or remained silent.
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Follow Curly through the events of the end of the game, up until Jimmy’s funeral, and some much needed closure with himself and Jimmy’s only living relative his mother.
Lots of JimCurly flavored moments here despite Jimmy being deceased, but if you aren’t a fan of JimCurly, it can be read as mostly platonic as well.
https://archiveofourown.org/series/5143956
Thank you to everyone who supported me through this project and past works. I have a few particular Ao3 and Tumblr floaters I can think of who have cheered me on and celebrated with me as each part was uploaded.
Most of all I have to thank Purple, the two of us have spent a year now compiling and coming up with all kinds of headcanons and ideas related to JimCurly, which are reflected through all of my Mouthwashing related works.
Curly’s grip tightened, his eyes hard and brows furrowed. Jimmy wasn’t sure what to say, tugging to pull his wrist back to himself, Curly’s grip only tightening.
“Let go.”
“Let go? Thats like asking me to watch you drown!”
Jimmy grit his teeth, but slowly released the tension in his arm, letting it fall as far as it could at his side before its weight snagged on where Curly held.
“Let me drown then.”
He hadn’t meant for the tightness of his throat to show through, the words spoken like he was trying to swallow the realization that he wanted nothing more than that. To slowly feel crushed beneath an inability to breathe, for the panic of drowning through life to become the sensation of stillness that came with unconsciousness.
Curly squeezed Jimmy’s wrist hard with furrowed brows. Those blue eyes he found solace in appearing sharper than he’d seen in ages.
He’d messed up this time. Gone too far. Wasn’t careful enough to ensure he’d slip under the radar like he always had. But maybe that was good. Maybe that meant Curly would leave him behind this time, leave him to rot like the sullen carcass he was.
Not today.
Not as he felt the crushing sensation of Curly pulling him into a hug, mashing their chests together like if he pressed hard enough, they’d meld into one organism.
One flesh, one heart, one sense of pain.
If it were at all possible, maybe it would feel manageable for once. Shared with the optimism and determination that seeped through the pours of Curly’s personality, perhaps pain would turn to a subtle sting. Pain that lingered for as long as Jimmy could remember, festering scars on his body and a soul aching to be remedied.
Jimmy hadn’t realized he was crying, until he pressed his face into the offered shoulder and felt the fabric dampen with tears.
No words came from either of them, just a warm palm against his back as Jimmy shuttered in the attempt to hold back a sob. Embarrassingly though it choked its way free, limbs wobbling under the realization he was humiliating himself.
“…let me drown.” He repeated, this time the words emitting from someplace further in his throat, the muscles clenching as he fought against sorrow.
“No.” The hand that still encapsulated Jimmy’s wrist gently brushed along the skin just below his wrist, pressing in and around the dual tendons there. “I’m not going to watch you do this and do nothing about it.”
With a final squeeze from the broad arm around him, Curly pulled back just enough for Jimmy to feel the warmth of his breath as it washed over his face. “You’ve got to stop.” He muttered as his arm slipped away, instead gripping the edge of his sleeve.
Jimmy couldn’t look away. Didn’t dare look away. Guilt pouring in to fill every gap of his aching heart, guilt not at the infliction upon his body but at the subtle furrow of Curly’s blonde brows and the way his forehead and nose creased.
Disappointment. Disgust. Pain.
A reflection of his own feeling, caught in Curly’s visage.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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