[ He feels something in his chest respond, like the last cover of dust has been swept free of his heart. D'Artagnan breathes life into the husk of his body without knowing it and for a moment Athos simply lets it wash over him like a cool breeze. He stares at the rustling tree canopy above his head and traces invisible patterns against olive skin.
It's too soon to say exactly where he wants it to go, but it's the first time he's been willing to take a journey where the outcome isn't certain. He trusts his friend wholeheartedly. ]
We shouldn't sleep here. [ But his voice is soft and sweet and edged with dreams either way. ] Next time a roof and somewhere that isn't grass. [ There will be a next time.
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It's too soon to say exactly where he wants it to go, but it's the first time he's been willing to take a journey where the outcome isn't certain. He trusts his friend wholeheartedly. ]
We shouldn't sleep here. [ But his voice is soft and sweet and edged with dreams either way. ] Next time a roof and somewhere that isn't grass. [ There will be a next time.
... Well, if his issues don't creep back in. ]