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Dreaming and waking, again.
Sep. 11th, 2004 10:34 pm* * * * *
Jonathan falls.
His shoulder, solid and still warm under your hand, sags out of your grip with a sickening slowness. His eyes -- oh, his eyes -- are bewildered, and beginning to glaze over as they stare up into yours, the question why? not even given time to form in them.
Your own voice: "Not one of them cares a thing about you."
"Well, I still care about them." Jonathan smiles a very small smile, deep and warm and incomprehensible. "That's why I'm doing this."
That was before. This is now. And he falls. And the light is gone from his eyes, and there is so very much blood.
* * * * *
*Andrew wakes with a choked gasp, his back pressing against the bed's headboard. He is sweating.*
Jonathan falls.
His shoulder, solid and still warm under your hand, sags out of your grip with a sickening slowness. His eyes -- oh, his eyes -- are bewildered, and beginning to glaze over as they stare up into yours, the question why? not even given time to form in them.
Your own voice: "Not one of them cares a thing about you."
"Well, I still care about them." Jonathan smiles a very small smile, deep and warm and incomprehensible. "That's why I'm doing this."
That was before. This is now. And he falls. And the light is gone from his eyes, and there is so very much blood.
* * * * *
*Andrew wakes with a choked gasp, his back pressing against the bed's headboard. He is sweating.*
