#for anon

pope coming home late with a haunted look in his eyes. he silently enters your bedroom and drops to his knees at the end of the bed, pressing his face into the mattress and holding back a sob.

you’re still awake, waiting for him, worried about him. you never know what kind of injuries he’ll have when he comes back from a job. you’re scared that one day he won’t come back at all.

your heart breaks at the scene in front of you and you crawl down the bed to take his face in your hands, looking at him with worry and concern.

“you okay, baby?” you ask softly while you brush his curls away from his face.

he gives you the tiniest head shake and lowers his head again. you shift so you’re sitting with his head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair. trying to make him feel good, somehow. he exhales deeply against your thigh and when he inhales again, he’s shaking.

“how can I help? please,” you plead. you hated seeing him so broken down.

“you can’t, it’s—I can’t—I did something bad,” he stammered, the last words tumbling out of his mouth.

“okay, i see. that’s okay, everybody does bad things. everyone makes mistakes.”

“not like this.” you move your hand to rub and knead his shoulders, and that spot that leads up to his neck.

you pondered for a moment. “if you’re so bad, then maybe you need to confess. atone. and maybe i can help you.” you whisper carefully. “it might make you feel better. even if it’s just for tonight.”

he’s still as he mulls over your suggestion. you still don’t know the extent of what he’s done over the years. and right now he can’t separate himself from what smurf wants, what smurf makes him do. he can’t tell you the truth. and he lives with that swimming in his head every day. maybe it’s how he pays the price.

his eyes come to yours. “maybe… i need to be hurt,” he wonders out loud, looking up at you for approval.

you felt a pull on your heart. his eyes were pleading, searching. you stroked his face and wiped a little tear from his cheek. you couldn’t hurt him.

“baby, i can’t.”

his gaze dropped from you and he rubbed his cheek on your thigh.

“sweetheart. let me make you feel good. just let me hold you,” you said as you brushed his temple with your thumb.