(no subject)
[me & Adam are 
aggravated]
So instead of learning I spent the day reading and writing. It is a holiday after all. It's just that it's not a very happy story, so I'm depressed now. Leave me a nice review? Sorry for comment whoring, but there you go, I'm being emo for once. Comes from getting bunnies while watching football. I should have known better.
title: "If The Seas Catch Fire"
category: real person slash
pairing: Adam Green/Carl Barât
warnings: Not even a kiss. Lots of Carl angsting, though. And violence. And angst. And it's terribly cheesy at the end, the fluff just ran away with me. And did I mention the angst? Oh, it's also quite long. Sorry 'bout that.
disclaimer: My sincere apologies to Mr. Green, I fervently hope nothing like this will ever happen to him. I'd also like to apologise to all football fans - I may make some jokes from time to time, but I do know most of you are no Bottle Idiots.
Carlos grins as a huge bulky guy grabs some other fellow tightly with his pranks and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek.
The other fellow just laughs, jumping up and down and whooping excitedly.
Adam looks at them with big round eyes, then speaks into Carl’s ear. “So, this is normal then? It’s like the Superbowl!”
“Yup, just a normal game. You like it?”
His friend grins up at him with sparkling eyes. “I love it! It’s great, man. Thanks for taking me here.”
Putting his arm around Adam’s shoulders, taking another sip of his guinness, Carl leans back against the bar.
Adam had arrived the day before to spend some time with him in London, and tonight Carl had taken him out to a pub to watch the premiership game.
A traditional English men’s outing, so to speak.
And his friend had taken to it like a fish to the water.
Carl really is quite proud of him.
Now if only he could get him to root for the right team.
Because Adam, in one of his capricious turns, has chosen to be for the northern one, not the one from London, claiming they played smarter and didn’t foul as much.
Which wouldn’t be a huge problem if they’d been watching at home, but in the middle of a London pub it is quite another thing, especially with Adam’s penetrating voice that always seems to grow louder in alliance with his alcohol intake.
So far it had gotten them a few nasty looks and some idiot had knocked over Adam’s beer bottle “by mistake”, but that was almost mandatory when you went to a pub with that boy.
So Carlos squeezes his friend’s shoulder and leans close to his ear, whispering a few words into it.
Adam nods, eyes attached to the screen, and Carl pushes his way through the crowd towards the loo.
He knows something is wrong the moment he’s back at their spot at the bar and Adam isn’t there anymore.
The idiot with the bottle is gone, too, just as the guys he was with.
And the way no one meets his eyes tells him everything he needs to know anyway.
Carl makes for the door as fast as he can.
As he gets closer to the exit, he can hear the whistles and yells even over the noise of the football watching crowd, and it prepares him a little bit for what he sees when he finally gets outside.
Just a little bit, though.
Adam is lying on the pavement, a half-ring of guys looming over him, yelling insults at his tiny form.
The idiot with the bottle is swinging his right leg, kicking swiftly into Adam’s gut.
Carlos gives a shout of mixed fear and anger, rushing towards the group.
He is held back by two of the Bottle Idiot’s friends, and as much as he struggles, he can’t get loose.
Bottle Idiot sneers at him as he lifts his leg slowly only to stomp down on Adam’s lower arm.
Every ounce of rage Carlos might have felt drains from his body at the sight of Adam’s body curling into itself and the drawn-out cry from Adam’s lips.
Bottle Idiot leaves Adam and walks up to his friends, the two who have held Carl back now throwing him onto the pavement as well and walking away.
Carlos doesn’t spare them another thought as he stumbles up and hastens towards Adam, kneeling down beside him.
Adam’s eyes are closed, his face is smeared with dirt and blood.
His lower lip is split, and the blood drips on Carl’s leather jacket when he cradles Adam’s head in his arms.
He doesn’t react at first when someone kneels down next to him, but then a kind voice asks him if there’s anything they can do, and he hears himself ask for a cab.
“Hurts, Carlos… It hurts.” Adam’s voice is weak and scratchy, tugging at Carl’s heartstrings.
“I know, love. I know. We’ll get you to a doctor, love, don’t worry. ‘s gonna be alright.”
“D’you need a tissue?”
Carlos catches the pack at the very last second before it would have hit his face.
He quietly thanks the driver, who is shooting them concerned looks through the rearview mirror.
“What happened to him, then? Favoured the wrong team?”
Carlos sighs. “Actually, yes. And he’s never been one to keep it quiet.” A slight smile forces its way onto his face. “We always make jokes about how long it will take for him to get his face smashed in by someone. Guess we found out.”
Gently he wipes the worst smudges of dirt and blood off Adam’s face.
His friend’s eyes are closed, and when Carl caresses his forehead he gives a low whimper of pain.
Carl’s hand twitches back immediately, and he mentally chastises himself.
Touch means pain right now, no matter how hard that is to bear.
“You’re still okay back there?” The driver casually ignores a traffic light.
“We’ll keep up for a while. How much longer?” Carl itches to tighten his hold on Adam, who is crouching into himself at his side.
“Should be there in a few minutes. Not much traffic, thanks to the game.”
The game.
Right.
And it was his fault, after all.
He’d dragged Adam out to see a proper English football game at a proper English pub.
He really should have known better.
Going out with Adam is a risk in itself anytime - while Adam is being perfectly lovely and charming, there are some people who just don’t appreciate his kind of humour.
Or, more to the point, Adam tries to be perfectly lovely and charming to everyone around him, which somehow seems to rub some people in the wrong way.
Especially as Adam’s interpretation of perfectly lovely and charming can be debatable at times.
And Carlos knows this.
And Carlos still had left him alone in a room full of drunken idiots.
And Carlos also knows there is a serious argument with himself to be had as soon as Adam is taken care of.
Right now, though, they are pulling in at the hospital parking lot.
“There we are. Shall I help you with your friend?” And before Carlos can answer, the driver is already out the door and opening the one on their side, helping them get out.
Adam makes a few noises of displeasure when they steady him between them as Carlos pays the fare and a generous tip, but is otherwise quiet.
His head is hanging down between his shoulders, and Carl sighs and picks him up.
Safest way to go, really.
Good thing Adam is at least a little bit smaller than him.
When he enters the emergency unit with his bruised friend cradled in his arms, they immediately have two nurses rushing towards them, and the next minutes fly by in a dizzy haze as Carlos explains what has happened.
They are shown in to an elderly doctor, and Carl has to explain some more, answer some questions, gets send out, lets himself fall into a chair and buries his head in his hands.
Right now he just wants to hide under the covers of his bed and sleep for a whole day.
With Adam snuggled up close to him, preferably.
After an eternity there is a warm hand on his shoulder, and Carl looks up, squinting into the halogen lit hallway.
The doctor sits down beside him, looking at him with kind eyes. “Candy?”
Carlos has to laugh despite himself, feeling some of the tension fall off him. “Thanks.”
He takes the proffered sweet and unwraps it slowly from its pink foil.
It’s the sort of candy Adam loves - sticky and disgustingly sugary from the looks of it.
And as he takes it into his mouth, Carl wonders why it is that even candy makes him think of that damn disaster on two legs. “So? How is he?”
“Not bad, actually. Could have been worse. He’s sprained his left wrist and he’s got a mild concussion.”
Carl winces.
“But that’s the worst of it. There are minor bruises on his appendages, and he’s got some ugly black and blues on his torso. Those are not pleasant, but give it two weeks and it should be fine. We’ve bandaged the wrist, but he has to come back in two days so we can check on it.”
“And the concussion?”
“It’s only slight. He has to stay somewhere quiet and not too bright. The nurse will give you a thorough instruction. Can you stay with him for the next few days?”
Carlos exhales slowly. “I was gonna do that anyway.” His tongue plays around with the sweetmeat for a moment. “Is he asleep?”
“Just resting. I gave him something against the pain and some sedatives, but you’ll get a prescription for some more meds. He’s going to be a bit woozy for a while, I’m afraid.”
“He’s always a bit woozy.” Carlos lets out a shaky laugh. After a few seconds he notices that while the laugh is gone, the shaking isn’t, and he feels a sob force its way up his throat.
Then there’s a steadying hand on his forearm. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
“I left him alone.” Carl’s voice is hollow.
“He’s an adult. You don’t have to protect him.”
“Yes, I do.” That came out a bit too forceful, but it feels good to actually talk about it with someone who might understand. Who doesn’t know him. Who doesn’t judge. “I… He’s so innocent sometimes. He just goes along with life and thinks it’s going to be alright. And it’s not. I - I’ve seen what can happen, and I know - I know how quickly - you know, sometimes people just slip and then you can’t make them get up and I just won’t let it happen to him.”
“It’s not under your control.”
“I know - I know it’s not under my control, but…” He’s flailing now. He’s never verbalized this, not even to himself. “He makes me think it is.” Another shaky laugh. “I guess he’s the strong one after all.”
“Manipulative little bastard, hm?”
“You bet.”
The doctor’s eyes twinkle at Carlos. “Well, I guess it’s time you’re getting him to a sheltering haven then.”
When Carlos unlocks the front door, he and Adam more stumble than walk into the dark flat.
It takes a few seconds for Carl to find the light switch with his half-conscious burden, and when he does, there is a loud groan to be heard.
Carlos winces in sympathy. “Sorry, love. We’ll be out of the light in a moment.”
A kingdom for a dimmer switch, nevermind the romantic possibilities of one for later.
“Bathroom.”
“Alright.” Carl gently steers his friend to the bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the tub.
Adam still has his eyes closed.
When he speaks, his voice is slurred, but steady. “Light. And leave, please.”
Carlos silently curses himself.
He’s been hanging around the bathroom door for five minutes now.
This is getting ridiculous.
On the other hand, what if Adam has fainted?
He might need his help any moment.
“Carlos.”
See.
Carl is in the bathroom in a flash, steadying his friend who is leaning over the wash basin, face still a bit wet. “You should go to sleep now. Do you think you can sleep?”
Adam gives him a lopsided grin with his eyes closed tightly.
Carlos chuckles quietly, then walks him to the the bedroom, laying him down on the bed and tucking him in.
As he makes to leave, Adam’s healthy hand shoots out, holding him back. “Stay.”
“I’ll be back in a moment, love. I just have to get you your meds.”
Adam’s hand loosens its hold only reluctantly, and Carlos hurries back to his friend’s side, kneeling on the bed.
He pushes two small pills into Adam’s hand, watching him taking them into his mouth, then presses a glass of water to his lips.
Adam takes a large gulp and swallows, then falls back into the pillows. “Stay now?”
Carlos brushes a stray strand of hair from Adam’s forehead, glad that his caresses don’t hurt any longer. “Sure.”
He climbs in next to his friend, and Adam moves painfully slowly until he’s splayed atop him.
Carl buries a hand in Adam’s hair, combing tenderly through the thick mass of curls.
He almost doesn’t hear Adam mumbling into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Carl.”
“What have you got to be sorry for? I was the one that left you on your own.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Carlos.” Adam gives a tired sigh. “I’m sorry for always getting you into shit situations. Making you worry.”
“I like to worry about you.”
Adam snorts at him.
“I don’t mean I - I mean - you know what I mean. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” Carlos feels himself starting to shiver. It’s been a long, straining day. He whispers into Adam’s hair. “I just don’t wanna lose you.”
“You won’t.
“Promise?”
“Yeah. Promise.”
There are tears prickling right behind his eyes, but Carl forces them back.
Not now.
This is about Adam being hurt, not him feeling insecure.
He knows Adam won’t leave this alone, but for now both of them have to get some rest. “Sleep, love. We’ll talk about this another time.”
“Damn right, we will.”
“Hush. I need my sleep if I have to take care of an invalid now.”
“Can still kick your ass.”
“Sure you can, love, sure you can.”
And the last thing Carlos thinks about before sleep finally claims him are two words the doctor said.
Sheltering Haven.
The title, as always, from a poem by ee cummings:
dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for god likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were.
aggravated]
So instead of learning I spent the day reading and writing. It is a holiday after all. It's just that it's not a very happy story, so I'm depressed now. Leave me a nice review? Sorry for comment whoring, but there you go, I'm being emo for once. Comes from getting bunnies while watching football. I should have known better.
title: "If The Seas Catch Fire"
category: real person slash
pairing: Adam Green/Carl Barât
warnings: Not even a kiss. Lots of Carl angsting, though. And violence. And angst. And it's terribly cheesy at the end, the fluff just ran away with me. And did I mention the angst? Oh, it's also quite long. Sorry 'bout that.
disclaimer: My sincere apologies to Mr. Green, I fervently hope nothing like this will ever happen to him. I'd also like to apologise to all football fans - I may make some jokes from time to time, but I do know most of you are no Bottle Idiots.
Carlos grins as a huge bulky guy grabs some other fellow tightly with his pranks and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek.
The other fellow just laughs, jumping up and down and whooping excitedly.
Adam looks at them with big round eyes, then speaks into Carl’s ear. “So, this is normal then? It’s like the Superbowl!”
“Yup, just a normal game. You like it?”
His friend grins up at him with sparkling eyes. “I love it! It’s great, man. Thanks for taking me here.”
Putting his arm around Adam’s shoulders, taking another sip of his guinness, Carl leans back against the bar.
Adam had arrived the day before to spend some time with him in London, and tonight Carl had taken him out to a pub to watch the premiership game.
A traditional English men’s outing, so to speak.
And his friend had taken to it like a fish to the water.
Carl really is quite proud of him.
Now if only he could get him to root for the right team.
Because Adam, in one of his capricious turns, has chosen to be for the northern one, not the one from London, claiming they played smarter and didn’t foul as much.
Which wouldn’t be a huge problem if they’d been watching at home, but in the middle of a London pub it is quite another thing, especially with Adam’s penetrating voice that always seems to grow louder in alliance with his alcohol intake.
So far it had gotten them a few nasty looks and some idiot had knocked over Adam’s beer bottle “by mistake”, but that was almost mandatory when you went to a pub with that boy.
So Carlos squeezes his friend’s shoulder and leans close to his ear, whispering a few words into it.
Adam nods, eyes attached to the screen, and Carl pushes his way through the crowd towards the loo.
He knows something is wrong the moment he’s back at their spot at the bar and Adam isn’t there anymore.
The idiot with the bottle is gone, too, just as the guys he was with.
And the way no one meets his eyes tells him everything he needs to know anyway.
Carl makes for the door as fast as he can.
As he gets closer to the exit, he can hear the whistles and yells even over the noise of the football watching crowd, and it prepares him a little bit for what he sees when he finally gets outside.
Just a little bit, though.
Adam is lying on the pavement, a half-ring of guys looming over him, yelling insults at his tiny form.
The idiot with the bottle is swinging his right leg, kicking swiftly into Adam’s gut.
Carlos gives a shout of mixed fear and anger, rushing towards the group.
He is held back by two of the Bottle Idiot’s friends, and as much as he struggles, he can’t get loose.
Bottle Idiot sneers at him as he lifts his leg slowly only to stomp down on Adam’s lower arm.
Every ounce of rage Carlos might have felt drains from his body at the sight of Adam’s body curling into itself and the drawn-out cry from Adam’s lips.
Bottle Idiot leaves Adam and walks up to his friends, the two who have held Carl back now throwing him onto the pavement as well and walking away.
Carlos doesn’t spare them another thought as he stumbles up and hastens towards Adam, kneeling down beside him.
Adam’s eyes are closed, his face is smeared with dirt and blood.
His lower lip is split, and the blood drips on Carl’s leather jacket when he cradles Adam’s head in his arms.
He doesn’t react at first when someone kneels down next to him, but then a kind voice asks him if there’s anything they can do, and he hears himself ask for a cab.
“Hurts, Carlos… It hurts.” Adam’s voice is weak and scratchy, tugging at Carl’s heartstrings.
“I know, love. I know. We’ll get you to a doctor, love, don’t worry. ‘s gonna be alright.”
“D’you need a tissue?”
Carlos catches the pack at the very last second before it would have hit his face.
He quietly thanks the driver, who is shooting them concerned looks through the rearview mirror.
“What happened to him, then? Favoured the wrong team?”
Carlos sighs. “Actually, yes. And he’s never been one to keep it quiet.” A slight smile forces its way onto his face. “We always make jokes about how long it will take for him to get his face smashed in by someone. Guess we found out.”
Gently he wipes the worst smudges of dirt and blood off Adam’s face.
His friend’s eyes are closed, and when Carl caresses his forehead he gives a low whimper of pain.
Carl’s hand twitches back immediately, and he mentally chastises himself.
Touch means pain right now, no matter how hard that is to bear.
“You’re still okay back there?” The driver casually ignores a traffic light.
“We’ll keep up for a while. How much longer?” Carl itches to tighten his hold on Adam, who is crouching into himself at his side.
“Should be there in a few minutes. Not much traffic, thanks to the game.”
The game.
Right.
And it was his fault, after all.
He’d dragged Adam out to see a proper English football game at a proper English pub.
He really should have known better.
Going out with Adam is a risk in itself anytime - while Adam is being perfectly lovely and charming, there are some people who just don’t appreciate his kind of humour.
Or, more to the point, Adam tries to be perfectly lovely and charming to everyone around him, which somehow seems to rub some people in the wrong way.
Especially as Adam’s interpretation of perfectly lovely and charming can be debatable at times.
And Carlos knows this.
And Carlos still had left him alone in a room full of drunken idiots.
And Carlos also knows there is a serious argument with himself to be had as soon as Adam is taken care of.
Right now, though, they are pulling in at the hospital parking lot.
“There we are. Shall I help you with your friend?” And before Carlos can answer, the driver is already out the door and opening the one on their side, helping them get out.
Adam makes a few noises of displeasure when they steady him between them as Carlos pays the fare and a generous tip, but is otherwise quiet.
His head is hanging down between his shoulders, and Carl sighs and picks him up.
Safest way to go, really.
Good thing Adam is at least a little bit smaller than him.
When he enters the emergency unit with his bruised friend cradled in his arms, they immediately have two nurses rushing towards them, and the next minutes fly by in a dizzy haze as Carlos explains what has happened.
They are shown in to an elderly doctor, and Carl has to explain some more, answer some questions, gets send out, lets himself fall into a chair and buries his head in his hands.
Right now he just wants to hide under the covers of his bed and sleep for a whole day.
With Adam snuggled up close to him, preferably.
After an eternity there is a warm hand on his shoulder, and Carl looks up, squinting into the halogen lit hallway.
The doctor sits down beside him, looking at him with kind eyes. “Candy?”
Carlos has to laugh despite himself, feeling some of the tension fall off him. “Thanks.”
He takes the proffered sweet and unwraps it slowly from its pink foil.
It’s the sort of candy Adam loves - sticky and disgustingly sugary from the looks of it.
And as he takes it into his mouth, Carl wonders why it is that even candy makes him think of that damn disaster on two legs. “So? How is he?”
“Not bad, actually. Could have been worse. He’s sprained his left wrist and he’s got a mild concussion.”
Carl winces.
“But that’s the worst of it. There are minor bruises on his appendages, and he’s got some ugly black and blues on his torso. Those are not pleasant, but give it two weeks and it should be fine. We’ve bandaged the wrist, but he has to come back in two days so we can check on it.”
“And the concussion?”
“It’s only slight. He has to stay somewhere quiet and not too bright. The nurse will give you a thorough instruction. Can you stay with him for the next few days?”
Carlos exhales slowly. “I was gonna do that anyway.” His tongue plays around with the sweetmeat for a moment. “Is he asleep?”
“Just resting. I gave him something against the pain and some sedatives, but you’ll get a prescription for some more meds. He’s going to be a bit woozy for a while, I’m afraid.”
“He’s always a bit woozy.” Carlos lets out a shaky laugh. After a few seconds he notices that while the laugh is gone, the shaking isn’t, and he feels a sob force its way up his throat.
Then there’s a steadying hand on his forearm. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
“I left him alone.” Carl’s voice is hollow.
“He’s an adult. You don’t have to protect him.”
“Yes, I do.” That came out a bit too forceful, but it feels good to actually talk about it with someone who might understand. Who doesn’t know him. Who doesn’t judge. “I… He’s so innocent sometimes. He just goes along with life and thinks it’s going to be alright. And it’s not. I - I’ve seen what can happen, and I know - I know how quickly - you know, sometimes people just slip and then you can’t make them get up and I just won’t let it happen to him.”
“It’s not under your control.”
“I know - I know it’s not under my control, but…” He’s flailing now. He’s never verbalized this, not even to himself. “He makes me think it is.” Another shaky laugh. “I guess he’s the strong one after all.”
“Manipulative little bastard, hm?”
“You bet.”
The doctor’s eyes twinkle at Carlos. “Well, I guess it’s time you’re getting him to a sheltering haven then.”
When Carlos unlocks the front door, he and Adam more stumble than walk into the dark flat.
It takes a few seconds for Carl to find the light switch with his half-conscious burden, and when he does, there is a loud groan to be heard.
Carlos winces in sympathy. “Sorry, love. We’ll be out of the light in a moment.”
A kingdom for a dimmer switch, nevermind the romantic possibilities of one for later.
“Bathroom.”
“Alright.” Carl gently steers his friend to the bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the tub.
Adam still has his eyes closed.
When he speaks, his voice is slurred, but steady. “Light. And leave, please.”
Carlos silently curses himself.
He’s been hanging around the bathroom door for five minutes now.
This is getting ridiculous.
On the other hand, what if Adam has fainted?
He might need his help any moment.
“Carlos.”
See.
Carl is in the bathroom in a flash, steadying his friend who is leaning over the wash basin, face still a bit wet. “You should go to sleep now. Do you think you can sleep?”
Adam gives him a lopsided grin with his eyes closed tightly.
Carlos chuckles quietly, then walks him to the the bedroom, laying him down on the bed and tucking him in.
As he makes to leave, Adam’s healthy hand shoots out, holding him back. “Stay.”
“I’ll be back in a moment, love. I just have to get you your meds.”
Adam’s hand loosens its hold only reluctantly, and Carlos hurries back to his friend’s side, kneeling on the bed.
He pushes two small pills into Adam’s hand, watching him taking them into his mouth, then presses a glass of water to his lips.
Adam takes a large gulp and swallows, then falls back into the pillows. “Stay now?”
Carlos brushes a stray strand of hair from Adam’s forehead, glad that his caresses don’t hurt any longer. “Sure.”
He climbs in next to his friend, and Adam moves painfully slowly until he’s splayed atop him.
Carl buries a hand in Adam’s hair, combing tenderly through the thick mass of curls.
He almost doesn’t hear Adam mumbling into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Carl.”
“What have you got to be sorry for? I was the one that left you on your own.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Carlos.” Adam gives a tired sigh. “I’m sorry for always getting you into shit situations. Making you worry.”
“I like to worry about you.”
Adam snorts at him.
“I don’t mean I - I mean - you know what I mean. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” Carlos feels himself starting to shiver. It’s been a long, straining day. He whispers into Adam’s hair. “I just don’t wanna lose you.”
“You won’t.
“Promise?”
“Yeah. Promise.”
There are tears prickling right behind his eyes, but Carl forces them back.
Not now.
This is about Adam being hurt, not him feeling insecure.
He knows Adam won’t leave this alone, but for now both of them have to get some rest. “Sleep, love. We’ll talk about this another time.”
“Damn right, we will.”
“Hush. I need my sleep if I have to take care of an invalid now.”
“Can still kick your ass.”
“Sure you can, love, sure you can.”
And the last thing Carlos thinks about before sleep finally claims him are two words the doctor said.
Sheltering Haven.
The title, as always, from a poem by ee cummings:
dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for god likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were.