#merrick020.

Logan wakes up to Merrick’s face above him—any other time, he might have made a joke about how it’s one of his favourite ways to be woken up, but the words die in his throat at the panic in her eyes. She’s saying something, talking at him more than she is to him, her words coming a mile a minute and much too fast for his still sleep-addled brain to process. But then he catches two words—she’s gone—and suddenly he’s wide awake, head almost knocking into Merrick’s at the speed he pushes himself up into a sitting position.

“Merrick, breathe,” he tells her, hands coming up to cup her face as her rambling tapers off into quiet hiccuping sobs. There’s a mixture of dread and terror brewing somewhere within him, but he ignores it for now, all his attention currently focused on calming his near-hysterical girlfriend, the pads of his thumbs catching her tears as they fall. “I need you to do something for me,” he tells her, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “Can you do that, baby?” Merrick nods, and he closes the distance between them to kiss her, nothing more than a soft brush of their lips before he pulls back again. “Match your breathing to mine, okay?”

She’s done it for him countless number of times, pulling him back from the edge when he’s too keyed up to touch her without being terrified of hurting her. She’ll put one hand on his face, the other over his heart, and just breathe with him until he calms down. Logan does the same for her now, one hand that had previously been cupping her jaw moving downwards until his palm lays flat on her breastbone, a solid weight against her shuddering ribcage.