The harsh, unrelenting grip of gloved fingers on the sides of his face— luring him, this temptress’ song of pain, aiding him to greater heights, and that one furious reverberation inside his head, of which aftershocks struck once— resounded, oh, the way they resounded— struck twice, and became a repeating beat adding the refrain— to that harmony, extending endlessly, he wanted to exist within, without bounds, without end— in this swan song.
Yet it wasn’t to be. Anything chased was fleeting. Nothing was ever meant to stay.
And the moment broke—
false wings clipped,
disappointment weighing him down— he fell fast—
hopes flew out of open hands;
sentiment raced by him, passing through but never truly colliding.
crashed unto earth.
reluctantly peeled open eyes scrunched, tightly shut. More than aware of the way his mouth curved unnaturally, the inescapable fault too clear in his gaze— blearily, through his singular eye, he took in bright lights haloing inescapable red.
In reverse, his heart held hostage on an inescapable precipe, swaying wildly, and grey eyes— that were only too calm— who held the thrall (who controlled the fall).
That man remained dangerous.
With one move, one twitch, unto that end— they would never meet one another again.
And maybe that was exactly what he wanted.
And for once,
he just didn’t care.
Through the fevered haze, breath coming haltingly, he raised one leaden arm. Tracking its ascent, but allowing it nonetheless, Chuuya’s expression didn’t so much as twitch. And he— suddenly, strikingly— needed.
Emotion unfamiliar but heeded— with an intensity he was wholly unprepared for; his hand brushed against soft strands, softly moving them aside, behind the delicate shell of an ear.
Turning his hand, he contemplated the scarlet shade staining his palms— one that was surely a match for the pool— that was only spreading its reach further and further by the second— underneath him.
Shifting his eyes to meet the ones that had never left his own—