β (>_> you suggested the AU, i gotta have it)
Send βββ for your muse to run their fingers along mineβs scars! Status: Acceptinβ
Front side of two am. Wakes in a cold sweat. Hands trembling out of control. The taste of silt on his tongue, that chokes; reminds his lungs they had drowned once. And they make a chest heave. Trying to draw in to much air at once.Β Seconds stretching into minutes that might as well be as long as years. Doubled over, trying to find something real to grab hold of. To pull him back to reality. Back to where he is, and not where he was.Β But his body is heavy, rooted in place; and all he can do is stare into the blank abyss of mahogany wood. Wishing his mind were as vacant as it was.
Easy, gentle, skin that runs against his. Quiet but with purpose. That slip over old wounds that will never fade. Map over the evidence left behind of just what hadnβt managed to kill him. And the searing pain, the blinding panicβit flees in the wake of that touch doesnβt it? Runs, to hide away from it. To vanish back into the corners of his consciousnessβbecause sheΒ is stronger than it could ever hope to be.Β
And old wounds that echo phantom pain, recede in the wake of her fingers. A chest slows in its upheaval. The scent of rotting flesh over run with fresh earth and floral perfumes. And by the time her touch reaches his hands, the tremble has fallen to a simmered existence. Gaze pulled to her with a turn of his chin heβs no control over. The taste of coffee and sweet candy, cleansing away the taint of disease. And he lets himself be pulled back to bed.Β
Wrapped about her, as much as hiding within her. Because there is no cure for whatβs happened to him. But there is her. And she has always been more than enough to keep the demons that forever gnaw at his door, at bay.