[ it’s the same as it always is — the guilt of being with hawk eclipsed by his gaping, selfish need, by his primordial understanding of hawk as a blackened, deceptive individual that has more in common with embry’s belief of himself than he could ever have in common with ash. he stays tightly in his embrace, breathing him in, knowing that despite his paltry apology, there’s a part of him that won’t ever forgive himself for the scars between them.
it’s fitting, maybe. there’s a boulder between ash and hawk, and embry keeps throwing himself against it anyway. maybe it’s what he deserves. ]
You think it’s over? [ he mumbles it against hawk’s shoulder, misery threaded through his words, a bone-deep exhaustion creeping over him as his thoughts reach the point where they can’t twist any further. ] You. Alicent. Ash. There isn’t anyone…
[ greer. this place can still take her, and for a moment his fingers dig claw-like into hawk’s shoulder blade, a hard breath muffled into the fabric of his shirt. he doesn’t cry, because he can’t. at some point, his near ceaseless tears got stuck somewhere in his throat, trapped behind his eyes. now, the pressure just builds, cresting high and then easing back, dragging him back and forth through the wreckage of his own despair. ]
I can’t lose anyone else. [ his mouth turns, lips gliding along the edge of hawk’s jaw, instinctual, primally seeking. his mind pulls taut, the thrum of panic like beating wings against his skull. ] I can’t. I can’t.
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it’s fitting, maybe. there’s a boulder between ash and hawk, and embry keeps throwing himself against it anyway. maybe it’s what he deserves. ]
You think it’s over? [ he mumbles it against hawk’s shoulder, misery threaded through his words, a bone-deep exhaustion creeping over him as his thoughts reach the point where they can’t twist any further. ] You. Alicent. Ash. There isn’t anyone…
[ greer. this place can still take her, and for a moment his fingers dig claw-like into hawk’s shoulder blade, a hard breath muffled into the fabric of his shirt. he doesn’t cry, because he can’t. at some point, his near ceaseless tears got stuck somewhere in his throat, trapped behind his eyes. now, the pressure just builds, cresting high and then easing back, dragging him back and forth through the wreckage of his own despair. ]
I can’t lose anyone else. [ his mouth turns, lips gliding along the edge of hawk’s jaw, instinctual, primally seeking. his mind pulls taut, the thrum of panic like beating wings against his skull. ] I can’t. I can’t.