[ He heaves in breath after breath through his mouth, fingers twisting into the material of her sleeves, and when she says, "It's done," he nearly cries with relief.
Technically, he's already crying. So, you know. Two steps ahead of the game.
Her hands are slick and warm against his cheeks, and he untangles one hand from her clothing to clutch her wrist – and on anyone else, it'd be a bruising grip. The kind to make bones creak and ache. He tries to anchor himself on the sound of her voice, the feel of her hands on his face, tries to focus on anything other than the fire lancing along his side with every breath.
It kind of works. ]
Not— [ Between desperate gulps for air. ] Not going anywhere.
[ Although passing out does sound really tempting.
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Technically, he's already crying. So, you know. Two steps ahead of the game.
Her hands are slick and warm against his cheeks, and he untangles one hand from her clothing to clutch her wrist – and on anyone else, it'd be a bruising grip. The kind to make bones creak and ache. He tries to anchor himself on the sound of her voice, the feel of her hands on his face, tries to focus on anything other than the fire lancing along his side with every breath.
It kind of works. ]
Not— [ Between desperate gulps for air. ] Not going anywhere.
[ Although passing out does sound really tempting.
Quietly, but with feeling, ]
This— this really sucks.