she looks to her lover, sleeping as soundly as can be. she purses her lips for a moment, gliding battered fingers onto the sleeping’s wrist, finally threading through her own.
she smiles a small smile; solemn and relieved.
“hell didn’t want me,” she remembers how her beloved thrust it out with such bravado; with the rebuilt pillars of grace and elegance she sat poised upon. she said it often, pride glimmering in her pink contacts.
she remembers, though, how behind that pink, there was a deep, beautiful brown filled with such despair. it pained her, to see the light of their life dim in such a way. they both felt useless, helpless, frustrated... afraid.
they were both so, so afraid.
they remembered how they cried into the crook of her lover’s neck, claiming that everything was hurting them when asked. they remember the glide of her fingers, now just as battered as hers, running up and down the tired and aching muscles of her arm.
they smile a small smile; solemn and relieved as they see the glint of an engagement ring around her finger.
maybe her worrying would never stop. maybe that meant she truly loved her... that she loved cleo. she shuts her remaining eye and sighs.
hell didn’t want her, and for that, seven was truly thankful.