[tms] 15 - leave out all the rest (linkin park)
NOTE: Zee is zee_ali and is used with knowledge of her mun, and much undying love. :P
Don't be afraid
I've taken my beating
I've shared what I've made
I'm strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I've never been perfect
But neither have you
====================
She doesn’t say a word or comment…she just touches the first tiny mark on his back and starts counting the scars.
In truth, he’d forgotten about them the second he laid eyes on her. Now, in the privacy of their borrowed bed, she’s mapping the first line of five nail marks forming a neat grid on his back. Under her touch, her unasked question, heat floods him but not with arousal.
It’s the sting of every single scar, wound, and bruise come to life in a single instant. It’s four months of emptiness and solitude converging on him in a single instant, making him relive that daily struggle for survival.
“Tell me.”
“Zee…”
“I need to know.” The words are warm against his bare shoulder, her body curled perfectly against his back. “Tell me.”
Shutting his eyes, he remembers the feel of the nail bed, the weight of the SUV. He felt his own power fail until the crowd saved him with faith, kept him alive. He felt his lungs give and his body scream as they both had that night…
In hushed tones, he told her. He used plain, simple words and analogies she could understand as she traced the scars. When that was done, he rolled on his back and showed her his wrists and ankles, explaining with some shame that he’d undertaken and conquered Buried Alive. He told her about the dark and quiet of the grave, about the scream that saved his life. Showing her the fading wound on his neck and the tiny scars he’d acquired on his face, he confessed the fear of losing control again and described the weakness, the fatigue that had finally pulled him under and out of the world.
Each scar, she touched, and in her face he saw the pain reach her. Clumps of dirt and dim street lights were reflected in her eyes along with horror and grief. Arousal blends with pain now, his body easily remembering the joy of her fingers on his skin. The heat changes…the old feeling is new again.
There are tears in her eyes as she lifts his hand and presses her lips to the craggy ravine burned into his wrist, her mouth warm and gentle against the sensitive skin on the inside.
When she pulls them away, there’s a perfect imprint of her mouth, a raised mound of flesh in the crevice of his angry red scar, faded pale white in a shallow memory of the larger wound.
Both are in awe. As they share a look, it truly hits them both that they’re together again.
They come together. There’s heat, pain, more scars to come…but as they lay together after, the worst of his scars are pale, old, and faded. Like most scars, they’ll never be truly gone, but love will always make them more manageable.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 478
Don't be afraid
I've taken my beating
I've shared what I've made
I'm strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I've never been perfect
But neither have you
====================
She doesn’t say a word or comment…she just touches the first tiny mark on his back and starts counting the scars.
In truth, he’d forgotten about them the second he laid eyes on her. Now, in the privacy of their borrowed bed, she’s mapping the first line of five nail marks forming a neat grid on his back. Under her touch, her unasked question, heat floods him but not with arousal.
It’s the sting of every single scar, wound, and bruise come to life in a single instant. It’s four months of emptiness and solitude converging on him in a single instant, making him relive that daily struggle for survival.
“Tell me.”
“Zee…”
“I need to know.” The words are warm against his bare shoulder, her body curled perfectly against his back. “Tell me.”
Shutting his eyes, he remembers the feel of the nail bed, the weight of the SUV. He felt his own power fail until the crowd saved him with faith, kept him alive. He felt his lungs give and his body scream as they both had that night…
In hushed tones, he told her. He used plain, simple words and analogies she could understand as she traced the scars. When that was done, he rolled on his back and showed her his wrists and ankles, explaining with some shame that he’d undertaken and conquered Buried Alive. He told her about the dark and quiet of the grave, about the scream that saved his life. Showing her the fading wound on his neck and the tiny scars he’d acquired on his face, he confessed the fear of losing control again and described the weakness, the fatigue that had finally pulled him under and out of the world.
Each scar, she touched, and in her face he saw the pain reach her. Clumps of dirt and dim street lights were reflected in her eyes along with horror and grief. Arousal blends with pain now, his body easily remembering the joy of her fingers on his skin. The heat changes…the old feeling is new again.
There are tears in her eyes as she lifts his hand and presses her lips to the craggy ravine burned into his wrist, her mouth warm and gentle against the sensitive skin on the inside.
When she pulls them away, there’s a perfect imprint of her mouth, a raised mound of flesh in the crevice of his angry red scar, faded pale white in a shallow memory of the larger wound.
Both are in awe. As they share a look, it truly hits them both that they’re together again.
They come together. There’s heat, pain, more scars to come…but as they lay together after, the worst of his scars are pale, old, and faded. Like most scars, they’ll never be truly gone, but love will always make them more manageable.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 478