An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Maybe if he opened his eyes this would turn out to be a terrible nightmare. Maybe a small body would giggle as it rammed itself into his half-asleep form. Maybe another body would hold his cheek oh-so-carefully and kiss it like he was something precious enough to be cherished.
He just needed to open his eyes.
Or
Fit, trapped and injured in the corpse hole, reflects on his foolishness and his attachments.











