@flawedrite
he sleeps lightly , with his face buried into kotarou’s shoulder , and his fingers twisted helplessly into his shirt . once , sleep came easily in the presence of his lover ; now , now he struggles even with the man so near . the bruises , and needle marks mend steadily --- the emotional scarring doesn’t .
so , when the fuuma shifts , soramaru starts to awaken . thick eyelashes flutter open to stare blearily into the darkness . it feels early , but he can’t be sure without checking his phone . he starts to roll away with the assumption that kotarou wants space to breathe . bewilderment makes him sluggish when the hands curl around his slender neck .
soramaru feels the weight of the man against his abdomen , and the deadly force against his throat . there’s a moment as he wonders if he’s dreaming still . in the darkness , the shape of kotarou matches the shape of the boy in his memories . in the surreal terror , he misinterprets the words of the man hovering overhead with the ones spoken in his dreams .
❝ please , sto --- --- ❞ and then the hands tighten , and he can no longer speak at all . his body writhes in a wild attempt to escape the unwanted hold , and his hands curl around excessively strong wrists .