[ He knows that voice. The edges of it scratch through the fog of his consciousness, wrenching a single syllable, ] Jinx, [ from his mouth as his head lolls into her grasp. His heart threatens to pound its way out of his chest; she shouldn't be here, not if he's dead, but she says left me, which meansβ well, he doesn't know. He can't think past the terrible sense of fear and need twisting in his stomach, goosebumps rising on his skin in the wake of her touch β being caught isn't enough, not when his entire being rebels against the very idea. ]
I'mβ
[ Here. Burning up. Dying. Dead. A full-body flinch wracks his frame, bare as the day he was brought into the world, a groan replacing whatever words he means to speak aloud. For him, there's no disappearance, no denial β just the memory, fresh as of mere hours ago, of her face fading from his vision. His hand shakes when he brings it up to her mask, stopping just short of touching her before finding his own, tearing it from his face as though it might allow him to see her more clearly. Even his eyes narrow in an attempt to focus, the slant of his eyebrows forming an apex rather than a divot, belying his desperation. ]
I'm here.
[ His mask clatters to the dirt, his fingers twitching in the empty air. He should bare his throat, he should surrender, let her tear him to pieces β maybe it's just the fact that he already has that keeps him so tense, his muscles worked into knots that twitch under the pads of her fingers. ]
I'll alwaysβ
[ But that's not quite right. He had left her, even if it hadn't been by choice; it hadn't been his actions, not really, that had led her to him, now. Just her sheer determination. And now, he can barely move, whatever clarity he'd achieved after first waking here torn to shreds by the hunt, by the sight of her. Hadn't they been here, once? Him, clinging to her like a drowning man clings to a float β but no, it'd been the other way around, her tiny form in his armsβ ]
no subject
I'mβ
[ Here. Burning up. Dying. Dead. A full-body flinch wracks his frame, bare as the day he was brought into the world, a groan replacing whatever words he means to speak aloud. For him, there's no disappearance, no denial β just the memory, fresh as of mere hours ago, of her face fading from his vision. His hand shakes when he brings it up to her mask, stopping just short of touching her before finding his own, tearing it from his face as though it might allow him to see her more clearly. Even his eyes narrow in an attempt to focus, the slant of his eyebrows forming an apex rather than a divot, belying his desperation. ]
I'm here.
[ His mask clatters to the dirt, his fingers twitching in the empty air. He should bare his throat, he should surrender, let her tear him to pieces β maybe it's just the fact that he already has that keeps him so tense, his muscles worked into knots that twitch under the pads of her fingers. ]
I'll alwaysβ
[ But that's not quite right. He had left her, even if it hadn't been by choice; it hadn't been his actions, not really, that had led her to him, now. Just her sheer determination. And now, he can barely move, whatever clarity he'd achieved after first waking here torn to shreds by the hunt, by the sight of her. Hadn't they been here, once? Him, clinging to her like a drowning man clings to a float β but no, it'd been the other way around, her tiny form in his armsβ ]
You'll always find me.