HARPER
The press of her lips as they traverse his skin without any sense of direction or any threat of a looming end is enough to have his threads unraveling. Falling to pieces in her arms, the only place safe enough to do so. He can taste the salt of his own tears as she finally presses their lips together, caught on hers as they'd caressed his cheeks and transferred to his own. It helps break him from the swell of grief that lays heavy on his tongue.
Though he is much taller than her, he hides in the shadow of the curve of her neck, feeling the thrum of her words as she speaks. Harper clings to her waist, but her hands are the ones that shelter and center, not his. It's a weight he never wanted to put on her shoulders, but he couldn't dream of a way to prevent it. Still, the guilt is sharp and sour in the bond. How he longs to have never needed to tell her this. To break the news that their son is now no longer theirs alone. That their family will have to be fractured, their rhythms broken. That Jude will be, in many ways, taken from her; perhaps only in stretches of hours or days, but taken nonetheless compared to what she was used to. Your fault, your fault, your fault, his mind whispers insidiously.
Her tentative question - or really, her sinking dread through the bond - is what brings him back from the pit. "No," he is quick to assure, pulling himself reluctantly from her shoulder to look into her eyes, his own bloodshot and swollen but sincere. Always, always sincere. "No, I'm not going anywhere." In any sense of the word. Eyes closing in grief, he tilts their foreheads together, hands bunching in the fabric at her back. "I am so tired, Maeve," and it comes out like a wounded cry, soft but hurting. "I'm so tired of every choice I make being the wrong one." The tears come back, burning hot against cheeks gone half-numb with the cold of the wind.
"If I didn't move on in order to be with Phoebe, I was the bad guy for leading her on. But moving on now makes me the bad guy. I’m the bad guy if I’m not there from dawn to dusk with Jude so I can be a present father, but then I’m the bad guy for not giving Phoebe space to accept we won't be together. And still the bad guy for not being there for you as your partner." Harper's face contorts in an ugly, vulnerable twist as his hands tighten at the small of Maeve's back. "No matter what I do, I'm the one to blame. But all I ever wanted was to make you all happy." His own happiness be damned.
Though he is much taller than her, he hides in the shadow of the curve of her neck, feeling the thrum of her words as she speaks. Harper clings to her waist, but her hands are the ones that shelter and center, not his. It's a weight he never wanted to put on her shoulders, but he couldn't dream of a way to prevent it. Still, the guilt is sharp and sour in the bond. How he longs to have never needed to tell her this. To break the news that their son is now no longer theirs alone. That their family will have to be fractured, their rhythms broken. That Jude will be, in many ways, taken from her; perhaps only in stretches of hours or days, but taken nonetheless compared to what she was used to. Your fault, your fault, your fault, his mind whispers insidiously.
Her tentative question - or really, her sinking dread through the bond - is what brings him back from the pit. "No," he is quick to assure, pulling himself reluctantly from her shoulder to look into her eyes, his own bloodshot and swollen but sincere. Always, always sincere. "No, I'm not going anywhere." In any sense of the word. Eyes closing in grief, he tilts their foreheads together, hands bunching in the fabric at her back. "I am so tired, Maeve," and it comes out like a wounded cry, soft but hurting. "I'm so tired of every choice I make being the wrong one." The tears come back, burning hot against cheeks gone half-numb with the cold of the wind.
"If I didn't move on in order to be with Phoebe, I was the bad guy for leading her on. But moving on now makes me the bad guy. I’m the bad guy if I’m not there from dawn to dusk with Jude so I can be a present father, but then I’m the bad guy for not giving Phoebe space to accept we won't be together. And still the bad guy for not being there for you as your partner." Harper's face contorts in an ugly, vulnerable twist as his hands tighten at the small of Maeve's back. "No matter what I do, I'm the one to blame. But all I ever wanted was to make you all happy." His own happiness be damned.
this is your ocean, an ocean of night
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
