[mse] 19.1.b. - Being Vulnerable
Sometimes in the middle of the night, he can feel her fingers on his wrist, tracing the patterns in black and brown that set him apart from the rest of the human race. The paths of heat her fingertips create on his skin whisper through the barrier between the physical and his kind, leaving messages in his mind and heart that reach him even in the deepest sleep.
She thinks she understands him so well…his purpose, his reason for existing. There’s only some arrogance in how sweet it is to him.
For a woman that’s seen and done so much in her life, she’s as naïve as he thought he was once upon a time.
Each sweep of flesh over ink speaks to part of him, to the lives past and the man he was born to be for this handful of decades. Those fingers see perfection amidst the cracks, a god where an impostor stands praying his forgery of a lightning bolt is good enough to get him through. Eyes on his face, hands on his body and his mark, she speaks to him in the dark and tells him that he’s not enough with her unerring faith in him.
He isn’t that man. He wasn’t that man. He doesn’t want to know what he will be, and so he doesn’t look. Yet he can’t stop when he’s fast asleep and she’s touching him. He can’t block her out and make himself safe when she’s speaking to him and he can’t cover his ears. He can’t hide from her love or her adoration when she assaults him unawares.
Her vision of him reminds him that he’s lacking, drives him to the point of pain where his mind wants to slip into total madness. She strips him naked and flays him with her veneration because he’ll never live up to it. It hurts, and it hurts because it comes from her.
Because he believes her when she tells him he’s perfectly worthy of her love. He stops and he listens when she tells him that he can do anything, knows he would bend to walk through seven foot doors if she assured him he was eight feet tall. He believes every bit as hard as she believes…because it’s her.
His heart, his soul, buried deep in the body of one woman.
She’s the only reason he’s ever had to be a superhero.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 402
She thinks she understands him so well…his purpose, his reason for existing. There’s only some arrogance in how sweet it is to him.
For a woman that’s seen and done so much in her life, she’s as naïve as he thought he was once upon a time.
Each sweep of flesh over ink speaks to part of him, to the lives past and the man he was born to be for this handful of decades. Those fingers see perfection amidst the cracks, a god where an impostor stands praying his forgery of a lightning bolt is good enough to get him through. Eyes on his face, hands on his body and his mark, she speaks to him in the dark and tells him that he’s not enough with her unerring faith in him.
He isn’t that man. He wasn’t that man. He doesn’t want to know what he will be, and so he doesn’t look. Yet he can’t stop when he’s fast asleep and she’s touching him. He can’t block her out and make himself safe when she’s speaking to him and he can’t cover his ears. He can’t hide from her love or her adoration when she assaults him unawares.
Her vision of him reminds him that he’s lacking, drives him to the point of pain where his mind wants to slip into total madness. She strips him naked and flays him with her veneration because he’ll never live up to it. It hurts, and it hurts because it comes from her.
Because he believes her when she tells him he’s perfectly worthy of her love. He stops and he listens when she tells him that he can do anything, knows he would bend to walk through seven foot doors if she assured him he was eight feet tall. He believes every bit as hard as she believes…because it’s her.
His heart, his soul, buried deep in the body of one woman.
She’s the only reason he’s ever had to be a superhero.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 402