( he wants to tell him that this shit never worked on him. his co tried, when he'd pop off in the middle of a fight and lay waste, hysterically manic. pull him back in. control him. ease him down. point him in an actual direction that didn't have him spraying shrapnel everywhere. ortez had better success, his voice and solid body a stabilizing presence. you're here, isaac. with me. he can't just fucking stop. what happens when he stops? nothing ever stops, not without a generous swallow of whiskey and a popped pill or two, his own personal cocktail. he can't stop talking, moving, consuming. he's constantly expanding. he'll stop when he's dead.
maybe it's ephemera's weight on top of him. his voice, bizarrely calm and centered, the only noise in felix's head. it doesn't make any fucking sense. nothing about this shit makes any semblance of sense, he'd said. ephemera is no good to him, so dispose of him. let him go. cut him loose and move on.
why is that so fucking impossible?
felix breathes. his teeth chatter violently, muscles twitching as his chest flutters through the inhale. back out, a second later. it doesn't feel natural.
his free hand moves between them, splaying flat on ephemera's collar. over his tattoo. redemption, scrawled in black ink across his skin, streaked in a shiny mix of blood and oil. he hadn't been able to reach it in the hallway, ephemera's shirt and jacket in the way. his breath fans ephemera's mouth as he exhales again. ephemera, indebted to his sins. felix, the sower of sins. he won't find redemption in felix.
he drags his hand up his neck, cupping ephemera's scarred cheek and rubbing his thumb over his prosthetic eye. his thumb drags his lashes, uselessly smearing away the oil, sliding along his brow to his temple, then across his forehead into his hairline.
where are you? tribute. reach. chorus. duplicity. he doesn't remember. it doesn't matter. )
If you don't get the fuck off me, I'm going to kiss you again. ( soft, but matter-of-fact, as if felix isn't gripping him tightly, halfway to desperate, like he needs to be held the fuck down or he'll float right out of his body. )
no subject
maybe it's ephemera's weight on top of him. his voice, bizarrely calm and centered, the only noise in felix's head. it doesn't make any fucking sense. nothing about this shit makes any semblance of sense, he'd said. ephemera is no good to him, so dispose of him. let him go. cut him loose and move on.
why is that so fucking impossible?
felix breathes. his teeth chatter violently, muscles twitching as his chest flutters through the inhale. back out, a second later. it doesn't feel natural.
his free hand moves between them, splaying flat on ephemera's collar. over his tattoo. redemption, scrawled in black ink across his skin, streaked in a shiny mix of blood and oil. he hadn't been able to reach it in the hallway, ephemera's shirt and jacket in the way. his breath fans ephemera's mouth as he exhales again. ephemera, indebted to his sins. felix, the sower of sins. he won't find redemption in felix.
he drags his hand up his neck, cupping ephemera's scarred cheek and rubbing his thumb over his prosthetic eye. his thumb drags his lashes, uselessly smearing away the oil, sliding along his brow to his temple, then across his forehead into his hairline.
where are you? tribute. reach. chorus. duplicity. he doesn't remember. it doesn't matter. )
If you don't get the fuck off me, I'm going to kiss you again. ( soft, but matter-of-fact, as if felix isn't gripping him tightly, halfway to desperate, like he needs to be held the fuck down or he'll float right out of his body. )