RONIN
the white knight
”They won’t.” Ronin almost chokes on the words as they leave his mouth, as if the attempt to knit hope into reality catches in his throat on the way out. ”We’ll bring her here to Haulani as soon as she’s well enough. We have Dahlia. They won’t— they can’t—” His attempt to convince himself, perhaps to convince both of them, is blissfully silenced by the sudden hands against his cheeks, by the way Remi’s unspent violence drips though his veins like molten metal.
Huffing out a shuddering breath, the tears that sting at the corners of Ronin’s eyes are already trying to escape by the time his husband surges forward for a kiss; one that the Knight meets without resistance, leaving only the quiet desperation of wishing that things felt better than they do. His arms wind around the Bastion as both a metaphorical and literal lifeline, Ronin swaying into his husband without meaning to, clutching at him with equal parts love and horror and guilt.
”I love you,” he whispers against his lips, whiskey sweet and breathless and wrapped in sorrow. ”I’m sorry we weren’t fast enough to save her from the worst of it.”
Huffing out a shuddering breath, the tears that sting at the corners of Ronin’s eyes are already trying to escape by the time his husband surges forward for a kiss; one that the Knight meets without resistance, leaving only the quiet desperation of wishing that things felt better than they do. His arms wind around the Bastion as both a metaphorical and literal lifeline, Ronin swaying into his husband without meaning to, clutching at him with equal parts love and horror and guilt.
”I love you,” he whispers against his lips, whiskey sweet and breathless and wrapped in sorrow. ”I’m sorry we weren’t fast enough to save her from the worst of it.”
i'll get over it
i just gotta be dramatic first
i just gotta be dramatic first
