Chapter Text
► PLAY
8:58 AM 02/22/2019
The recording plays, the audio picking up static as this tired and frail-looking man in a stark white lab coat stands at the center of an old cellar space. His raven hair was long and unkempt, tied hastily into a high ponytail as he said, “This is audio log 425. I’ve— I’ve lost count of how long it has been. A couple of weeks, maybe a month or three since then— it’s been very difficult to keep track…
Firstly, its hands— well, everything hasn’t been going according to plan, to put things lightly. Nothing too big— no no, of course, just some… ‘complications.’ Unfortunately, this had kept me indoors more times than not, meaning I hadn’t gone down for the typical treks. It had left me without the proper parts for the job. Although, I could very well use leftovers, but my darling doesn’t deserve that... Secondly, this predicament has left me more time in my own company, which you— which you could imagine isn’t so ‘fun.’ Oh, I mean, who would have thought being locked in your lonesome could be so dull? Maybe, I could have done something else other than tinker with my formula, but…”
He looked as if he rolled his eyes, a smile grazing his lips with a chuckle, “They— They always did say I wasn’t of the ’recreational type,’ whatever that means…”
Then, the man’s voice trails off as if he was distracted for a moment, looking to the side his smile fades. “It’s been so quiet— so very quiet,” he remarks, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it…”
The scientist sighs afterward, looking blankly to the camera and then back to that one corner. A corner completely outside the view of the recorder. There was a moment of silence as he just stood there as still as stone, seemingly spacing out right before the recording cuts to black.
■ STOP
It took him several months, but he did it.
If he was being honest, Vox would say he couldn’t believe it was all true. The anticipation made him so jittery that he was almost certain he would mess it up— he could only hope he didn’t.
He secured the knot one final time with steady, but nervous, hands. It was all or nothing.
Eventually, Vox tucked and cut the last thread; he was finally able to let out a deep sigh, tense muscles loosening and feeling much like jelly as his heart finally settled in his chest. Golden eyes, pensive as they scanned the stitches, the knots, and staples for any imperfections— any loose threads that may give way if strained or any missing appendages he may have forgotten to account for.
It felt surreal, feeling closer to a dream than reality— yet here he was.
Lightly running his fingers at each carefully selected limb with practiced ease, He bent the joints far enough to gauge if everything was aligned and working as intended, watching to see if the threads held against the strain— they did. It took several repetitions before he stopped, satisfied with the results that he compiled with a pleased hum.
“Perfect,” he said, stepping back to admire his work, “Wouldn’t you think so, darling?”
He paused almost like he was waiting for a needle to drop, but there was only silence— oh, so deafening silence. “You’ve been so very patient for me,” remarked Vox, gently reaching for the carefully sealed container secured atop the case cart.
In the container, a severed head gently bobbed up and down in its fluids. Its expression was frozen in a constant state of peaceful rest— blind to the insanity that swirled within the man’s mind. Vox nudged his forehead against the cold-tempered glass as his eyes searched for something behind the closed lids of his beloved’s eyes.
“This time,” he started with a gentle smile, “This time for certain, my darling— we will be together again.” He said those words so resolutely, voice full of desperate conviction like a vow that only he and his sleeping company could hear. The container gave a definite hiss when he unlocked the clasps keeping it tightly shut— pressure escaping from its vacuum seals. Even through his surgical mask the pungent scent from the solution still tickled his nose. It almost made him sneeze a couple of times.
After changing his gloves, Vox pulled his darling from its pool with careful and practiced ease to avoid spilling too much. “Easy does it,” he softly hums, cradling them in his arms, “Just a little more— You can wait a little bit longer for me, right?”
It gave him no response— still as stone in his hands even as he ran his fingers through its hair. And at that moment, he almost felt the slightest twitch coming from their jaw like it was grinding its teeth— maybe it was. Or maybe his exhausted mind was once more playing tricks with his perception of reality.
It wouldn’t be the first time it made him believe that his beloved was conscious and alive even without a body or a functioning heart.
Vox always felt slightly perturbed by that thought. Something about his beloved’s head being conscious enough to hear and process their surroundings sent shivers down his spine. It left an uncomfortably heavy knot in his gut— even after everything he had done.
He still couldn’t stomach hurting them more than he already has.
The scientist took careful steps as he reconnected them to their brand-new body— waving away those meddling thoughts as he worked. This part of the operation required his full attention to be successful, with even the slightest error sending him back to the start. Engrossed in his work, Vox didn’t notice their eyes fluttering when the needle dug into their skin.
“Just one more and…” he hummed, tucking the knot before cutting the excess, “Done. What a good little poppet, being so strong for me, darling.”
The moment lasted a second— it felt like years to him as he stepped back, admiring his work in all its glory. He almost fell to his knees when the tense knot in his stomach was released— pent-up energy gone in a moment.
Finally. Vox thought, with a tired sigh as he sunk into the closest surface.
After everything that happened— all the problems that had arisen as he was attempting to acquire his darling’s new parts. Or those bothersome dreams that jolted him awake, leaving him restless for weeks on end. He was finally able to put them back together. Vox ought to do the last crucial step in his plan, waking them up from their sweet and blissful dream.
Every dream eventually comes to an end.
At the time, everything was going so well. He almost couldn’t believe it. His darling had been adapting to the new body quicker than the previous incarnations, being able to form basic sentence structures and constructions in a short span of time. Just today, they were able to coherently ask him for seconds without much difficulty, even though they still heavily depended on hand gestures. It was quite cute, to be fair.
Vox had always told them they were quite the clever cookie sometimes.
It was one of the many things that he loved about his darling. Shame, it had been significantly diminished after the incident. Nevertheless, he hoped to be able to carefully cultivate even a fraction of that brilliance in this one. Although, their curiosity needs to be nipped in the bud— he couldn’t have them become too inquisitive, much less betraying him again.
If he could preserve this very moment in time, he would. To preserve the mind in its purest and truest form. Vox would be satisfied having built the perfect version of them— freed from the inquisitive thoughts that would lead them astray. Even if it meant he had to sacrifice bits and pieces of their old self to achieve that goal— in his eyes, it was well worth its weight in gold.
This was the only case he would agree— that ignorance was bliss.
Vox softly recited the passage, “But Heav'n's free love dealt equally to all? Be then his love accursed, since love or hate, to me alike, it deals eternal woe—” sitting with his darling in the garden, shoulder to shoulder as they indulged in some light reading.
They listened intently, clinging to every single word he uttered even as their eyes struggled to follow. He saw them lean closer still, partially blocking his view of the page in their excitement. “Darling,” he hums, with an amused chuckle, “I can’t— I can’t read if your lovely little head is in the way. Do you understand?”
Turning to him, they blinked owlishly in confusion— oh, how adorable.
“I can’t read,” he said slowly, “if you cover my view.” The scientist made sure to enunciate every syllable carefully, giving his darling time to fully grasp his words. This was, sadly, one of the many downsides of their current predicament— struggling to have even a remnant of their quick banter. Although, his darling still tried their very best— nose scrunching in thought every time.
They are very cute, very cute indeed.
Then, it seemed to finally click in place, eyes widening as they shuffled back with an almost apologetic smile. Ever so patiently, he ran his hand through their loosely braided hair— almost beaming when he felt them instinctively lean into his touch.
“It’s alright, my dear— no harm done.”
Vox gave them a soft peck on the forehead for their worries. The two of them spent much of that morning in the garden like this, with him reading to them— intently listening.
Although, soon enough, his darling had gotten tired of sitting still, deciding to run around the garden with a happy hum— picking through daffodils, freesias, etcetera. The scientist silently watches them run about the garden— always within his sight. They knew to stick close to him, sometimes even looking back to check if he was still there.
Vox would give them a little wave and they would wave back enthusiastically— covered in their spoils. Rinse and repeat, very much like clockwork.
He felt at ease having developed a reliable routine around each other; a system of checks and balances formed from sleepless months spent in crippling paranoia. Vox had been on high alert back then, unable to dispel the distress he felt whenever they looked to the wall surrounding their home— a little too long— whenever he would lose sight of them in the garden or accidentally pass out from exhaustion and awaken without them beside him.
It took several repetitions and weeks of reeducation to cement the select habits into their routine— gently scolding and guiding them to follow his set path. For the longest time, he hadn't felt as peaceful as he did today.
Not to mention the weather this morning was so lovely— neither too hot nor too cold, with a gentle breeze and partially clear skies to boot. A picture-perfect day to spend outside with the light of his life. So— maybe, it wouldn't hurt to rest his eyes for just a moment. It had been the first time, in a long time, that he felt so relaxed— so much so that he could almost fall asleep right where he sat.
Surely, he could trust his beloved not to wander off if he took a quick nap.
Vox slowly blinks, watching his darlings back as they bent down to smell the begonias— smiling brightly as they always did. It seemed they were lost in their own world, surrounded by vibrant flowers he had painstakingly cultivated for them. Tried as he might to blink away the cobwebs of sleep, he would sooner fall into its calming embrace.
A little nap, won’t hurt. He thought as he fell into darkness.
At first, there seemed to be this sense of calm washing over his exhausted frame.
Vox felt his shoulder loosen, tight muscles finally able to release their tension— after so long. The warm summer breeze gently caressed his cold skin like the feather-like touch from once familiar fingers across his cheeks. From up above, birds that sang from the oak tree, he had sought shelter in, slowly gave way to a beautiful voice that hummed their little song.
“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,
Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird don’t sing,
Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…“
There was something so familiar about the voice; from the intonation to the way they habitually stressed a particular syllable, and the gentle warmth in every letter.
“And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama’s gonna buy yo—”
The voice seemingly trails off into a soft chuckle.
A gentle hand started playing with his hair. Without a thought, Vox turned his head to the touch with a satisfied hum, it paused for a moment and continued. They danced around his fringes as the voice hummed, “You’re awake...”
For a moment, the sunlight blinded his vision when he opened his eyes, the light gently dispersing as he blinked away the last ebbs of sleep. Their figure loomed over him with an all-too-familiar smile. The sun seemingly cascaded down their frame, making them look so ethereal— well, more than they already were.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” they said teasingly, “I was beginning to think you might sleep forever.”
Vox felt like he could get lost in their gaze and the playfulness that glimmered just below the surface, it was truly unforgettable— and how couldn’t it be? Their presence was one that was seared in his mind forever, vivid in its beauty— from the shape of their face down to the curves of their smile. He would always get lost in the sea of color that sparkled in their eyes whenever the sunlight hit it in a certain way.
The bright and gentle mind that shone through teasing smiles and cheesy one-liners shared in half-stifled laughs. He watches their smile falter— eyebrows furrowing, but still toying with the ends of his hair, “You know,” oh, here it comes, “As lovely as this is— It would be nice if we could—”
“Darling,” he said with a placating tone, following them as they stomped angrily through the halls of their home.
“No,” they barked back, stopping in their tracks. “Do not ‘darling’ me, Vox Akuma— you promised me you wouldn’t work today,” their voice seething as they turned to him with a glare.
To him, the face his beloved had, seemed so twisted and unfamiliar in this very moment— more akin to a macabre than a human. Vox was never quite able to reconcile that piercing glare with the smile that once was brimming with love when they took walks in the garden. It felt so far removed from the kind and patient little sweet thing from his many memories.
Annoyed, he mutters, “Honestly, you’re being over dramatic ove—”
They seemed appalled when they said, “Over dramatic?! You promised to eat dinner together.”
Perhaps, he shouldn’t have broken his promises. They only, if ever, asked for the littlest things from him and nothing more. At most, they only asked for just a moment of his time. Whether it was a short stroll through their garden or a short dance while their gramophone plays— maybe, it would have sufficed. Maybe even just a simple quiet dinner together would have been enough to bring back the apple of his eye.
“Vox, I don’t— You haven’t eaten anything all day...”
Now, there was only this simmering hurt that threatened to boil over at the slightest provocation. Their home felt like it was tethering at a knife’s edge, it was distracting, so much so that he’s taken to sleeping in his study. The room they used to share, the one with the biggest window overlooking the garden— was left cold and unoccupied for months.
“You know, yesterday was our anniversary— or did you ‘forget’ about that as well?”
It shouldn’t have been a big deal.
Everything would have gone back to normal once he got the grant to continue his research. They only had to be patient with him. And yet, sometimes, it seemed as if they resigned themselves to whatever imagined grievance they deluded themself into believing. At times, he wondered if they only ever did it to get a reaction out of him. Nevertheless, he thought— if it was anyone, he knew they would have still understood what he was trying to achieve.
They used to always support him in his endeavors, even when they didn’t understand them as thoroughly as he did.
“Vox— darling, please,” he heard them plead, “Eat— even just a little.”
Then, why was this any different?
“Vox…”
Why do they antagonize him so much?
All he has ever done was for them— for both of them. The house they lived in, the garden they grew— hell, even all the wonderful meals they had were possible because of what he sacrificed. He provided for them just as they had for him, doing everything to make them happy— would have even given them the world if they had asked. Vox had done everything for them— so why did they act as if he was the bad guy?
“I don’t— I don’t think I even know who you are anymore…”
He thought they understood him.
“Vox, you’re scaring me…”
He thought they would always be on his side.
“St-Stay away!”
So, why did they betray him?
“I said stay away!”
When did they stop being by his side?
“Vox, I’m warning yo—”
Crash! Crack! Thump!
Vox didn’t mean to hurt them, he didn’t— he swears.
If he could take it all back he would, but his hands were already covered in red, and no matter how hard he washed them— it never came off. And as for his poor sweet darling? Their bones were already twisted every which way, a mangled mess of broken bone and bruised flesh— they were almost unrecognizable. He didn’t do it— he couldn’t have done it. Vox had loved them too much to have done it.
Then, what was this in front of him? Surely, not his beloved.
He didn’t mean for it to end like this.
Were they not happy just moments ago?
The two of them lying in the garden together, basking in each other’s company like all was right in the world. Vox could have sworn it was so. Was it, not a beautiful day when his sweet little darling had picked flowers?
No, that couldn’t be right.
They had been singing to him, playfully playing with his hair when he had awakened— yes, he had dozed off in their lap while they had chatted. The two of them had been talking about…
What had they been talking about?
His legs felt as if they were seemingly made of jelly, struggling to even reach his poor darling who was lying alone on the ground in a slowly growing pool of blood with their body twisted unnaturally— oh god, they were hurt. They had been alright, he could have sworn they were. Vox heard them, he saw them— hell, he still felt their gentle hand toying with the ends of his fringes as they contently hummed.
Oh god, there was so much blood.
“D-Darling, please,” he forced out a strained laugh, not knowing who he was even pleading to, ”This— This is-isn’t funny,” his shaking hands cradled their cold frame closer to his.
They felt cold. Why were they so cold?
Perhaps, it was just the cellar air.
They've always complained once before about how cold the cellar gets, telling him to at least get a heater— worried that he would have gotten sick after staying down here for hours. It must be, he thought as he shrugged off his coat— carefully wrapping it around them, cradling the head close to his harshly beating heart. He could barely recall much after that, just the nauseating feeling as he mumbled, “It’s okay, everything is— everything is gonna be okay,” verbatim through every shaky gasp.
Amongst it, the only thing he could vividly remember was the look in their eyes that stared blankly at him, right through his very soul, empty and void of any life or love it had once before.
V̷̛̭͋͗̚͝o̴̦̩̔̆͐͜͝x̷̨͉̪̻͂̏̂,̶̛̰̼̏̽̆͜ ̷̨̤̬̯̙͆̍̆̌͆d̸̊̈̕͜á̷̡͚̋͘r̵̬͔̥̗̀ḽ̸͓̱̈́́͌i̷̛̞̅̈́ņ̴̬͕͂g̶̠̠̽̎͆̑̐,̶̮͉͈̭̇̓ ̷̦̗̠̝͑̇̚ͅĭ̶̡̛̍̾t̴̡̧͍͑’̵̝̙̩̃̌ͅͅs̴̢͖̩̻͉̊ ̵̜̬̻̥̂̓̚͝ẗ̷͈͎͇̝́̔̈̌̍ḭ̸̢̤̕m̵̨͉̏̎ȇ̴̻̩͎̟ ̵͔͈́̄͒t̵̯̠̙͔̊̆ͅo̴̫̲̪̍ ̶̭͉̰͋w̵͇̟͉̄͒̈́͝ä̶̳̲͖́̄͝k̷̮͕̩̋e̴̖̜̚ ̷͍̻͍̬̽͐̐͝ṳ̶̠̻̹̰̐̒̈́͠p̸̜͌̕̚.̷͉̪͉̏̊̾̓͛
Then, suddenly, he woke up with a start.
Vox’s heart beats harshly against his chest, pushing against his rib cage as if it wanted to jump right out of his body— it almost hurt. The suddenness had shocked his system into hyper awareness, feeling everything and nothing at the same time from the tingling sensations zipping through his body or the uncomfortable caress of petals on his forehead.
How did that get there?
Vox shakily touched the bundle of flowers woven through his hair before he noticed them. Ah, when did his darling get so close? They looked so startled eyes wide from surprise— pupils dilated to the point the black almost consumed their entire iris.
“Woke you up— I’m sorry…” they murmured.
He waves his hand dismissively, “It’s— It’s quite alright, darling.”
It was strange, his mind felt so incredibly sensitive, feeling as if hives were flaring up from where the flowers touched his bare skin to the very tips of his fingers. Vox couldn’t help but ruffle them off, ignoring the soft whine beside him as several blossoms of red anemone fell into his lap, delicate petals ripping from their stems from how rough he was being— but it never seemed to fix that incessant itch.
Perhaps, something other than the flora was causing these adverse reactions— but, what could it be?
There wasn’t anything he was allergic to in their garden, that he knew of, nor was there any other symptom appearing alongside his sudden over-sensitivity. He tries recalling the dream that jolted him awake— but to no avail. It was almost like a fog had cast itself in his mind.
Vox could only recall the momentary peace he felt before the sudden crash and nothing else. There had to be something else, if not in reality then in his dreams. If he could just remember it, maybe he could pinpoint the cause.
He just needed to remember.
He had to try harder to remember.
“Vox?”
A soft murmuring voice called out to him, snapping him back to reality— back to his sweet little darling fretting over him.
But, no, that isn’t right— this couldn’t be them.
The inflection when it had said his name was wrong.
It lacks their cadence; the careful way his darling would stretch a syllable out with such a melodious tone—akin to a love song—and even the warmth that somehow cling to every word.
They had always spoken it in that precise manner, no matter the mood, it never changed.
No matter what.
So, who was this stranger in front of him with his beloved’s pretty little head?
That's them, your beloved. They’re right there.
That must be the reason, wasn’t it?
The reason he felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. This sickening feeling in his guts when it frowns too deeply.
A wolf in sheep's clothing, a monster masquerading as his beloved, knowing he could never hurt it.
You made them like this.
But it was too sloppy, too conceited to think it could fool him by wearing his darling’s skin.
It was a fool, but he couldn’t reveal his knowledge of its deceit.
God only knows, what manner of hell it might do to the love of his life if it knew he saw through the veil.
He had to be patient with it.
“I’m alright, my darling.” he hums, with a soft fox-eyed grin plastered on his face.
For a moment, it seemed to relax, shoulders sagging as it let out a quiet sigh, “You worried darling so much!”
The concern in its voice, obviously, lacked that familiarity, that gentle warmth that used to tug at his heart whenever he made them worry.
The sly little demon is truly playing him for a fool.
Well then, two can play that game.
Vox keeps his grin, pretending that everything is right as rain.
He needed to be patient.
He needed to steer the conversation elsewhere— distract it enough to lower its guard.
Then, he will strike.
"Red anemones?" he asked.
Looking down, the scarlet raindrop-shaped petals and their fuzzy black florets were still scattered on his lap, clinging to the whites of his pants. The urge to brush them off came strongly to him. But that can wait. Its eyes brightened at the simplest remark, picking another blossom from the remaining bundle in its arms.
"They reminded darling of you—" exclaimed the demon, tucking the blossom behind his ear, “Like your hair see!”
The shivers were almost immediate— as well as the urge to slap its filthy hand away from him. His skin was tingling and tight with goosebumps, right where its sickeningly cold fingers grazed, having to fight the instinct to flinch away. It would have known he knew if he did, and like it or not he knew what needed to be done. Vox could only hope his darling would understand— he was doing this all for them.
Because all it will take is a simple touch.
A simple hand atop his darling’s head, repressing the urge to grab as much hair and pull— he couldn’t do it. It was so tempting, but that would mean possibly and unnecessarily harming them just to get back at this vile demon for its trickery.
Fortunately, the little beast seemed so easily distracted by such a superficial gesture, leaning into his touch without a single thought.
This was all his fault.
It did not even question the fact that his hand slowly lowered down and down its head— even letting out a giggle when his fingers grazed the nape of its neck. How innocent and so very trusting, so very trusting it was indeed. He would have been rougher had it not been for it having his beloved’s head.
He couldn’t hurt them again.
He has.
It was a shame it had to end like this, but he needed to purge this demon from them. The man couldn’t let this monster taint what was left of his darling, even if it would hurt to do this to them.
Vox gave his darling’s forehead one last peck, “This will not be the end,” he promised, to himself or to them, he wasn’t quite sure.
Then, without a word more he put an end to this dream with his own hands.
CRACK.
► PLAY
3:30 PM 08/22/2019
The next recording plays.
The screen was pitch black at the center was a grey analog display saying ‘No Video Input,’ but the audio seems to be working just fine as it picks up the faintest sounds. There was a pregnant silence before the microphone caught what seemed to be the sound of a weeping man in the background, it was faint, but audible nonetheless. Cranking up the volume, the sounds became a jumbled mess of half-choked ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I didn’t mean it’ in between muffled sobs.
Then, it abruptly cuts out.
8:58 PM 07/23/2021
Another recording plays right after the first.
Unlike the others, the video was crisp and clear as the same scientist from before stood at the center of the familiar cellar space. He had looked a little worse for wear with a pale and gaunt face framed by his matted long hair— that he didn’t even bother to tie it. The bags under his eyes, evident signs of unrest, were darker and more prominent against his already unhealthy-looking physique.
Even so, a wide grin stretched across his exhausted face, “I told— I told you I would do it even if it took years, didn’t I?"
■ STOP
At first, you woke up all by yourself, and nothing made sense.
You were wrapped up tight in a heavy red blanket in a room that felt kind of familiar but also really weird, like you'd been there before in a dream.
The ceiling above you was a plain and creamy-white, and you just stared at it, confused. Blinking a bunch of times because everything looked fuzzy—like when your eyes aren't quite awake yet— but also weirdly sharp, like a photo captured by a camera.
It was warm at first. Then cold. Then warm again, Your head was spinning in place, trying to catch up all the little things happening around you.
Everything around you felt too much. The smell of the room was sickening— kinda like a hospital, sharp and sour. Your mouth bitter and gross. And you could hear everything, from the loud buzz of cicadas outside to the thump-thump-thump of your heart inside your chest.
Your skin felt buzzy and tingly, like your whole body was waking up all at once and decided it didn't like it.
It was too much.
Your hands shook, and your throat tightened up, and then you let out a weird, broken little sound that wasn't really a cry but wasn't anything else either.
You couldn't think.
You couldn't breathe right.
Everything felt wrong.
You wanted to run away, but you weren't sure what from.
So you moved— kicked and squirmed and twisted— until thud!
You tumbled off the bed in a loud mess of blankets and limbs. The hardwood floor hittinf your side hard, and it hurt— it hurt so bad you felt the warble sob.
You were crying now, even if you didn't mean to. Your eyes blurry as you struggled to get free from the blanket fast enough. You needed to run.
Then—
"Darling?"
You froze.
That voice. It was soft. Gentle. Familiar.
Someone else was here.
You hadn't heard the door open once.
And yet, he was just there, kneeling next to you.
A man with dark hair and a bright white coat, smiling down at you like everything was okay. His hands started to untangle the blanket around you, slow and careful, like he didn't want to scare you more.
Where did he come from ?
You wanted to ask, but couldn't. The words stuck in your throat as your chest hurt and ears rang. You could barely hear what he was saying until you focused hard enough to listen real close.
"-here, there— I'm here, darling, just listen to my voice..."
His voice was nice. Deep, but not scary-deep. It was warm, like a cup of warm milk with honey or a big hug after crying. It made you want to listen, even if you didn't totally understand why.
It made something twist in your stomach— like when you were scared and comforted at the same time.
You didn't know what to think, so you stopped altogether. You just watched him and listened.
His honeyed eyes soften,"That's it. You;re doing well—" hands rubbing slow circles on your back—"Breathe— Breathe with me, okay?"
He took a deep breath in, and you tried to copy him. Then he let it out, slow. You did too. Again. And again.
His hands held yours, warm and secure while it was still shaking.
"Yes... Just like that. In and out. Listen to me— I'm right here, my darling," he said again, his voice making you want to curl up into a ball in his arms.
And then, all daze and tired, your brain got stuck on one small thing.
Wow, you thought. His eyes are really pretty.