graysonlangleyā:
āOh, thank fuck,ā is the first thing Grayson says. Or, rather, wheezes, because Azrael might be shorter than him but heās still six feet worth of stockiness and heās heavy. After some ungainly struggling, Grayson separates them ā and proceeds to pull Azrael into a fierce hug.
He knows itās probably not appreciated. He doesnāt care. Heās spent the last couple of days watching a brother who thinks Azrael is dead, a brother whoās trying to pretend heās tough and strong in the midst of absolute terror, and itās fucking awful.
āWeāre so happy to see you alive, you have no idea,ā Reshdva sighs in sheer relief. āArcherās not far. Heās fine, we promise. How are you alive? Were you not here when the black came?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Despite himself, Azrael returns the embrace, arms squeezing tightly around Grayson. He has many thoughts about the youngest Langley brother, but for now, there is relief. The thought of Archer losing Grayson after all theyāve gone through in unbearable, and the thought of losing Archer is impossible. His rib cage opens finally at the confirmation, and he nods, tears welling, spilling over his cheekbones before he can stop them.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI was here with my patrons,ā He confirms, arms resting loosely over his stomach. āThe black came in so suddenly, but Iāāā He swallows. Heās seen the spirits that linger, heās seen the hand of death clearly. āI wasnāt cast out of the capitol, nothing has harmed me.ā He wants to tell Grayson of his mother, but there are other questions first he must ask. āYouāre here, you and Archer both? Where had you been? Has the black touched where you were?ā









