Psst... if you are still doing drabbles. Rex/Adam would be good for my soul
i like your style, anon. have a Somewhat Late Drabble, the first lorien legacies thing i have written to the end in literal years
(warning for what could be interpreted as suicidal ideation)
Black marble sky meets eerie-bright snowscape on a horizon as distant and empty as the hollow in Adam’s chest, these last weeks. His feet are planted in the snow, his arms tense by his sides. He hasn’t moved in a while, and ice dusts the shoulders of his parka.
He doesn’t look back. “It’s always cold.”
Boots crunch over the snow toward him, cutting through the low constant howl of the wind, and stop not far behind. “You left your canteen,” says Rex, too evenly. “And your rations. And your communicator.”
“You weren’t planning on leaving.” There it is, the little crack and waver that he’s never been good at hiding. Something twinges in Adam’s chest. “Were you planning on coming back?”
Of course I was, the good and dutiful leader in him wants to say; what does it fucking look like, the bitter rebel in him hisses. I don’t know, murmurs the lost boy in him, who hates the home he’s far away from more than he ever missed it.
He makes his choice, or close enough. “I wasn’t planning on much of anything. I’m sorry if I worried you.” He’s better at keeping his voice neutral than Rex ever was.
And Rex isn’t fooled for an instant. Heavy footsteps, crunch crunch crunch, a heavy hand he can feel through his parka. Squeezes his shoulder, draws him back gently when he doesn’t pull away. He remembers the heat and the sweat and the sand and the strain of saving Rex; some part of him can’t help but marvel, now, at how effortlessly Rex saves him.
“You did,” Rex says, folding him into huge arms and zippy nylon and warm Rex-smell. “You scared me, Adam.” His voice hitches. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Adam doesn’t have much of an answer for that, except for the embarrassing little hiccup he lets out as he leans his face into Rex’s throat. Something soft brushes his forehead; it’s only when Rex tucks his hair to one side and does it again, lingers this time, that he realizes it’s a kiss.
His eyes fall shut, and his hands tighten into fists in the bulk of Rex’s parka as he presses close. He’s lost, yes. But a seed in his heart uncurls into this, this circle of warmth in the frozen wilderness, and whispers: home.
