The moon hangs low over the cabin, spilling silver across the floorboards, painting Darlin’s skin in cold light. Sam watches them from the armchair, half-shadowed, a book long-forgotten in his lap.
He’s memorizing them again.
Every curve of their jaw. The way their chest rises and falls, steady. The faint hum in their chest when they breathe through their nose. That warmth—that endless, aching warmth—that has been his for so long.
“Y’know,” Darlin’ says softly, not even turning to look at him. Their voice breaks the stillness like a whisper meant for ghosts. “You stare at me like you’re tryin’ to take a picture with your eyes.”
Sam huffs out a laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe I am.”
The word hits him like a punch to the ribs. Because tonight is easy. Tonight is safe. Tonight is here. But forever? Forever is the one thing he’s cursed with and the one thing they can’t have.
Sam’s gaze drops to his hands, pale and still as marble in the moonlight. “I know,” he murmurs. “I just like… remindin’ myself you’re real.”
They cross the room without a sound, like the wolf in them knows how to move through the world without disturbing it. When they kneel in front of him, their hands slide over his knees, grounding him. “Hey,” they whisper. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, huh?”
Darlin’s brows furrow, but they don’t pull away. “Sometimes. Usually when I’m tryin’ not to.”
He exhales a shaky breath that could almost be a laugh. “You might outlive everyone else, if you’re lucky, Darlin’. All your friends, your pack—but not me. Not really.”
Their thumb brushes against his knee. “You say that like it’s supposed to scare me.”
“It should,” Sam says quietly. “You’re gonna die someday, and I’m just—” He swallows hard, his voice breaking. “I’m just gonna keep goin’. Like I always have.”
Darlin’ looks at him for a long time, eyes soft but steady. “That’s what’s been eatin’ at you.”
He nods, slow. “I don’t like thinking about what it’s like to watch the years take someone from me? The way their heartbeat used to slow right before…” He stops himself, jaw trembling. “And I can’t—I can’t do that. I need you.”
They rise onto their knees, take his face in their hands. “Sam.” Their voice is low, steady, but there’s a crack beneath it. “You’re not losin’ me yet.”
“That’s not the point.” He presses his forehead to theirs. “You’re mortal. I’m not. I can’t keep pretendin’ that doesn’t matter.”
Darlin’ tilts their head just enough that their nose brushes his. “Then don’t.”
He blinks, pulling back a little.
“Don’t pretend,” they whisper. “Don’t hide from it. Yeah, I’m gonna die someday. Yeah, you’ll still be here. But that’s not a curse, Sam. That’s just… life. And if I’ve only got one lifetime, then I want it to be with you.”
Their words hit him harder than any truth he’s faced in centuries.
Darlin’ smiles, though their eyes are shining with tears. “You think dying sounds so bad? ‘Cause I don’t. Not if it means I get to love you every damn day until it happens.”
Sam’s chest caves in around the sound he makes, something between a laugh and a sob. His hands come up to cradle the back of their neck, pulling them closer until his lips find theirs in a kiss that feels like surrender.
When they pull away, Darlin’s voice is just a whisper. “And you, Mr. Collins?”
Sam laughs through the ache. “What about me?”
“What do you want?”
He looks at them—really looks—and for once, there’s no fear in his gaze. Just something calm, something whole. “I’d die the same day you do. So I don’t have to wake up to a world without you in it.”
Their smile trembles. “That’s awful romantic of you.”
He chuckles, kissing the corner of their mouth. “Guess I’m sentimental like that.”
They rest their head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat that shouldn’t exist but does, for them. His fingers trace idle patterns along their back, memorizing the feel of skin over muscle, of warmth against cold.
The moon dips lower. The night hums. Somewhere, an owl calls out into the darkness.
And for a little while, the two of them just breathe.
Because this—this fleeting, fragile thing—is theirs.
And if dying ain’t so bad, it’s because loving was worth it.
DYINNNN AINT SOOO BADDDDDD NOT IF WE BOTH GOOOOO TOGETHERRRRRR
It’s done I’m not sure if I really like the background but i’m really tired of having to recharge my apple pencil every five seconds because I’m impatient
Seven Minutes in Heaven!David who doesn’t even hesitate when Angel’s name is called with his, he just drags them into the closet with that little smirk like “seven minutes isn’t nearly enough.”
Seven Minutes in Heaven!David who uses the dark to his advantage, murmuring against their ear, letting touch replace sight, dragging out every second like he’s testing how long Angel can hold still.
Seven Minutes in Heaven!David who ignores the rules entirely, seven minutes is a limit for everyone else, but for him it’s a challenge: how much can he make Angel unravel before the door opens.
Seven Minutes in Heaven!David who presses Angel against the wall, voice low, reminding them they’re his, not caring that friends are giggling right outside the door.
Seven Minutes in Heaven!David who teases Angel about keeping quiet, threatening to make them louder just to see if they can keep control while the group waits.
Seven Minutes in Heaven!David who would let the timer run out but refuse to leave the closet, snarling at anyone who tries to open the door, because he hasn’t had nearly enough of them yet.
Seven Minutes in Heaven!David who takes it as an excuse to remind Angel that even in a crowded house, even in a stupid game, the world shrinks down to just the two of them.
