@willfcrgive // i don’t want to go back to sleep…
IT WAS A GENTLE SUGGESTION FROM A VOICE WEAKENED WITH TEARS AND MUFFLED CRIES INTO FABRIC THAT HAD WRACKED HIS THROAT FOR HOW LONG? somehow time is much more difficult to interpret now, as if life has become mere static. he had believed he knew what living in a haze meant before, but that is nothing compared to now.
he hadn’t meant to wake his friend, but his intentions are worthless when weeping breaking the quiet of night has become as common as the blackness itself. and when sleep is so scarce for his friend! how awful is he to deny andrei precious rest and perhaps peace in that rest when none will grace him in wakefulness? guilt burns at the pit of his stomach ( what a useless, volatile boy ), and of course he cannot blame andrei for not wanting to shut his eyes again.
lucian had tried to muffle the raging panic against a pillow, but those noises are still far too similar to what had filled cell walls so terrifyingly recently. what are months compared to lifetimes of agony endured? he had once claimed time heals but will distance ever be enough when he continues to drag them both back??
even now long after the storm has calmed, streaking tears paint cheeks tinged pink. hands reach protectively around himself, pulling at long sleeves that mask each scar that lies beneath. clothes cling to a trembling body covered in cold sweat.
“ alright, ” he swallows against a sore throat, exhaling a shaky breath. “ I can make you some tea if you want it. ”
andrei has woken into a world he does not know : seconds past before he can place himself in their meager shelter. rain thuds against walls, and dim light sits in the window to illuminate little more than figures, and he has to remember where he is ---- has to replace in his head concrete with bedding and shackles with mere shirtsleeves. has to tear himself into the present, even if it leaves him aching and unsure.
lucian’s cries have spared him his nightmares ---- but he returns to an existence that is only marginally better. all they have gained since rescue and release is freedom for two bodies pushed to brokenness. and what use is freedom destroyed by fits of agony ---- by the wretched sound of his friend weeping in the middle of the night?
( be grateful that these are not the cries of the past, reason promises as heart rate fails to descend and breath is suppressed by cultivated hardness, they are only the effect. it is over. you are not there. he is not there. )
however far they go, distance will not spare them : andrei has always known that this would be true. oceans could be crossed, and agony suffered at the hands of their former government will always cling to their souls ---- their departure had been for security. the hope that if the world forgot them, they would forget it as well. andrei should have known better. should have been good enough to know detachment would not be a real remedy.
when they had been there, it had been easy to blame the pain on their torturers. now that they are alone, andrei cannot help the sickening sense of responsibility that pulses through him. has he failed lucian just as he has everyone else?
“ no, no it’s alright. ” it will be cold outside their blankets, and even the shine of sweat on the other’s skin does not stop andrei from trying to shield him in a sheet. he must say something ---- must find words that heal. but he has never been hopeful or good, and so he cannot separate himself from the only consolation he knows : they will both be dead soon.
( when had the thought of that ---- their death, which surely they must endure together ---- stopped hurting? )
“ if you want tea, i will make it. please don’t try to get up. you’re shaking. ”
