Here, Where We Share a Telephone
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His fingers brush against the other's solid, tangible
why isn't it cold, why is it warmhands and he breathes for the first time in what felt like centuries. Maybe it has been. Maybe it's been longer.But when the other gives him a bright smile that a certain image decided to mock
ash, he's full of ash, all he feels is a heat spreading across his chest and the world around him blurring into nothingness.It was just him and that boy.
It was the two of us at the start. It'll be the two of us at the end.
He
wantsdoesn't wants to let go.Series
- Part 1 of Here, Where We Share a Telephone