mycroft freezes when john speaks, every fiber of his being is clearly being stripped down to it’s core, molecules SCREAMING in response to this NEW idea of safety, of love. instead he grasps john’s jacked, fingers raking down the material until they catch, fisting it with desperation. he needs him. ❛ do you need me? do you want me? ❜ he needs to know the answer immediately. he can’t handle NOT knowing at least this piece of information. he can go without knowing EVERYTHING about john, but he has to hear this. it’s all that might keep him held together, emotions riding through him like lightning, burning him until he can ground himself in john’s answer.
Releasing a small grunt as he’s jerked that much closer to the other man, he steadies himself as well as he can. Even half an hour ago he would have balked at the question, attempted to brush it off. But this is the first time he’s seen Mycroft like this. Ignoring him doesn’t even register as an option. ❝Probably against my better judgement, but I do.❞ Somehow, it’s a relief to have it said aloud, though if he stops to think about it, the reason why isn’t all that mystifying. The words are long overdue. ❝Y- you need to breathe.❞ There it is, the inevitable need to get through the messy turmoil, to get it over with. ❝I need you, Mycroft, but I need you alive and breathing.❞
