[ic] but it's written in the starlight

[goldstarburst]

Sam checks the exits of the white space for the fourth time. For the fourth time, there are none; for fuck's sake. He slides his thumbs into his pockets, wishing he had a gun, or a knife. Or Sora's ASP.

Comments

[thevelvetglove]

A noise catches in the back of his throat. He doesn't know what it would have been if it had slipped free. His gaze goes strange, staring through Sam, fixed on nothing.

[goldstarburst]

He gauges it, digests it, processes every flicker and shift of Sora's face, of his body.

"It is okay, Sora," he murmurs again. Then he reaches, gently, to draw him in.

[thevelvetglove]

He resists for a second, purely out of instinct, but then, abruptly, goes limp on top of Sam. He presses his face against the crease of Sam's neck and breathes in the smell of his sweat.

He doesn't even know why he's trembling. This is stupid.

[goldstarburst]

Sam just holds him. Everything about it is steady, present, rock solid. He rubs Sora's shoulder, his back, giving him slow space to come back to himself.