oceans
I will edit this later. XD;
Other works can be found here.
oceans
Words: 1,088
Genre: Romance
Pairing(s): Phoenix/Miles
Notes: Totally typed it into the text box. Written for the kink meme, with the original prompt here (which was about drowning). First P/E prompt filled out on Part 5. <3
Summary: He's pulled down deeper and deeper but the only ocean that's swallowing him is the ocean that belongs to those blue eyes...
Warning: None? Hobo!Nick. :/
Rated: PG
There was an unflinching grip clenched around his throat. Wispy fingers dug into his skin, crushing his windpipe, forcing open his mouth in an angry kiss that made him breathe water, choke on darkness. His eyes were open in a dull, fish-eyed stare as he gazed up at the retreating light in the glitter of watery blackness. He was sinking deeper, deeper, limbs heavy, clothes heavier, barely able to lift a single hand in the weightless void of water. He thought that his life should have been flashing before his eyes, thought that he should have been sinking into a sea of sorrow and regret and sin, but he only sees smiling blue eyes and arms that reach out and twine around his body in a final embrace.
He felt warm in that conjured moment of respite. Wondered if people truly saw their entire lives rolling before them like a badly preserved black-and-white film in their final moments. Wondered if they could see everything, every detail and memory that had been sewn into the weaves of their hearts before the end. He wondered if death was supposed to be cosy and calming, because he felt almost prepared to die. All he needed were those eyes. All he needed were those arms. He knew that he regretted a great many things in life, but having those things with him before the very end made the regrets seem so trivial.
So he was happy. As he closed his eyes, he was glad for that last glimpse of that one person. He didn't see the short tenure of his 35 years, didn't remember the bruising imprints of a German cane, didn't recall the warmth of a father or the short ocean-filled summers with a pair of lost friends. He felt himself sink and drown, and his entire body shuddered in a sigh, tired and weary.
In that moment, he, in turn, embraced back.
One last moment of warmth was all he needed before he willingly said goodbye. Those arms tightened around him, a hug that spoke of hopes and dreams and promises and trust and never-let-me-gos. His head drooped forward weakly, pressed up against that sturdy chest and he felt himself smile. He wondered if it was strange to feel safe as you died.
His brain started to shut down.
Oxygen depletion, he heard an internal voice narrating with professional detachment. Body losing strength. Can't breathe. Nervous system failing. Can't thin.....
The walls were closing in for the final time.
This time, he didn't go down with a fight.
There was no fight left in him.
His body felt heavier than a boulder but he felt light. Maybe because he was light-headed, he didn't know, but by the time he broke surface he had forgotten that he could breathe, remembering only because his body had forced him to gasp for air. His body still weighed down uselessly in the water and he was only vaguely aware that he was conscious. His head lolled to the side, exhausted, resting against a firm shoulder as his forehead dug into a bristled chin and he heard the shouts and calls like they were a broken radio in a shop as you walked down the street.
It was the splashing that stayed with him, the quickly drawn breaths, the strangely steady heartbeat, the warmth. The arm that looped around him and held him close was almost as crushing as death's wispy tendrils but he liked how they felt solid and real when he wasn't sure if anything else really was.
He didn't know when but he somehow found himself on his back on dirty soil and someone was ripping off his clothes and pumping down on his chest. It was painful and rough and frantic and he wished he could have told whoever it was to please stop doing it because it hurt and he was quite alive, thank you, but he knew that he probably wasn't as alive as he or anyone else would have liked.
It was that one shove against his heart that made his body lurch and vomit out all the water, rejecting it as though it was that ridiculous pizza that that person kept in his fridge that was three weeks past its expiration date. He felt his throat resonate, heard himself groan and someone saying oh my god and those arms squeezing him tightly, saying his name, telling him to open his eyes or nod and to please be conscious because that way he'd be a little bit more helpful on the way to the hospital.
He wanted to tell whoever it was that he'd be a little bit more alive if the death-crush of doom would end soon. He heard himself sputter a bit of water instead. His throat wasn't working well, he was tired. He was too exhausted to open his eyes but he managed a flutter and couldn't see anything...
... except those blue eyes.
He smiled, saying something about redemption and miracles and love-conquers-all before he starts to snore lightly, to everyone's immediate relief and weak amusement.
***
"Miles," Phoenix was on the couch, beanie in his hands as he hunched over, looking at the man with a solemn expression. The question was on his face, on the tip of his tongue, in his eyes. He was swimming in questions and worries and Miles knows that he probably can't put what he wants into words because he might start asking the wrong things.
Miles smiled in response, exhausted and weak, body laid flat on the hospital bed as tubes and tubes slink in and out, surrounding him like colourless vines.
"Come here." Even his voice sounded hollow, but Phoenix dutifully obeyed and sat on the bed, leaning over him with eyes that spoke of oceans and oceans of regret, of worries, of franticness, of fear. Miles is touched that he had inspired so many emotions into the man but barely realizes it as he feels himself smile and reach up, fingers still so cold, brushing Phoenix's lips. It rests on the back of his neck and Phoenix leans down with the weight, their lips meeting in a chaste, drawn out kiss that starts and stops over and over again every time Miles needs to breathe.
"I just wanted to see if Gourdy was real."
It's all Phoenix can do to not laugh and cry at how stupid such a smart man is when Miles pulls him down for another kiss.