I've been working for ages on a very long, very plotty 'Erik comes back from the dead' fic that's about to go on pause while I do my gift for the exchange, so thought I'd drop a snippet to prove I have been writing, mum, honest. It's a hard fic to take a snippet from without context though! So have this bit:
Every morning for as long as Simon can remember – well, no, not every morning, they’re not that co-dependent – but very nearly every morning that they’ve shared the same bed over the last twenty years or so, they’ve always woken up in the same way. Once the alarm has blared them into life, one of them – usually Wille – will roll over to sling an arm around the other and cuddle them close, exchanging whispered good mornings and how did you sleeps. It’s a familiar, comforting ritual going back to when they were barely more than kids.
Even when they’re in the middle of a blazing row about something or other – and there’s been more than a few of them over the years – it never changes. The good mornings might have a bit more passive-aggressive venom to them and the cuddle is distinctly shorter, but neither of them has ever triggered the nuclear option of withdrawing it altogether.
The alarm hasn’t gone off yet this morning, but Simon is more than sure Wille isn’t asleep. He’s been awake himself since the room was pitch-black. Now, with the grey light of dawn sneaking past the curtains, he risks a whispered, “Good morning,” and holds his breath.
The silence drags on. Probably no more than a second in reality, but a terrifying eternity in Simon’s head before Wille sighs, rolls over, and pulls him close.
Simon breathes again, almost weak with relief.
“Better than you, I think. Did you get any sleep at all?”
Wille hums into the back of his neck, not answering the question. That’s a no, then.
“It is him,” he says eventually, so quiet that Simon has to strain to hear him. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s him. It’s Erik.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that--”
“If it was Sara, you’d know,” Wille interrupts firmly. “However impossible it was…you’d know. Without a doubt.”
Simon can't really argue with that.
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