[the brief stoppage in his own throat feels so natural for the manner in which today has unfolded that Styx doesn't think it useful to attempt to sort out whether it had come from himself or his bonded. even without the connection, their fatigue was synchronized through experience.
it's good that Eren seems to have gathered up enough energy to enter their home under his own power; this allows the drummer just enough time to properly shut the door at last. the chill seeping through the entryway would take a few minutes to dissipate, but that was fine. their presence would warm things better than the insulation.]
's hard sometimes, isn't it? You're pushing with all you got, 'nd it still feels like you're standing still.
[effort didn't work like that, he knew, but when progress remained so infinitesimal for so long it became more of a struggle to hold onto a logical perspective. what good was conjuring up flames if his friends still cried?
thoughts like that...they came from the dark hole in his mind like grasping hands. years of worthless could never erode as easily as one might hope, not when they carried the whispering voices of all the people he'd disappointed in his life. how much momentum could motivation build up, really? his desire to protect had never flared higher, but at times it still felt like nothing against the solidity of his natural limitations.
...not right now, though. there's enough weight being shared between them as it was, and - today, perhaps, it was better to stand still. how else could he brace anything against himself?]
[ the couch seemed so close yet so far away. how many steps was it, five? ten? he was beyond his limit of walking and he knew that when he’d hit those cushions he’d be out of commission for the rest of the day. as it should be— he should be getting rest. eren does his best to get there on his own, borrowing the drummer’s broad arms once more when he simply couldn’t coordinate. the rest of the way would have to be a descent, down with care and to the side of him that was numbing less. the rest, including his tail, fell limp at soon as there was something holding him from beneath: cushions, thank god.
he needs to breathe, now. his shoulders ache and in a matter of moments the pressure on his side is uncomfortable, but, endurable. his neck was bandaged underneath his winter poncho, but it was wet and beginning to seep through. just a dot from the outer layer that would soon reveal a larger stain on hospital gauze. ]
Forward is all I ever see. [ even if he feels like he’s running in place. his words come between breaths, and while his limbs feel heavy to beckon his witch, something in their bond does it for him: a suggestion, if anything, to come closer and stay close. ] I wouldn’t’ve made it this far if it weren’t for that.
[ he tries removing part of the poncho, his talons catch on the fabric’s hood, and bbrrrrrrp. it rips, and he can’t pull further without ripping it more. ]
[forward is all that Styx sees now, tugged by the strings of his bond and his own tender heart. oh, that's - he'd laugh any other day, he thinks, for how much this reminds him of his cat getting stuck in blankets after trying to 'hunt' them. even now there's a faint ripple of affection as he crouches, reaching out with fingers only slightly less clumsy than the claws he began to untangle.
it's not really funny, he knows. many have been the days when simple little accidents like this have felt like blows powerful enough to hurl him from the precipice.]
'm glad. [softly spoken, with a tone that doesn't require response if answering proves too taxing.] Guess that's kinda selfish, but...'m real glad I got to meet you.
[even like this? a traitorous voice in the drummer's mind whispers, gleeful with its malicious doubt. Styx flinches when his own broad hands tear more of that poor poncho but still answers back to himself with a resounding yes. especially like this.]
[ at least he could tell that the chuckle was a fond one, and not that he was being funny. then again, eren could argue about this being an ironic thing of the ages. his talons are lax and easy to pull out of his problematic catch when the hands working him are dexterous in comparison. that, and not as sharp (at all).
eren has had his long, ongoing fair share of selfishness, and maybe styx was right in a way— but eren couldn't see it as selfish. there was nothing left for him. redemption was out of his sights and he hardly thought he deserved the chance. he'd hit his all time low and there was still someone out here to look at him the way no one could. maybe it was selfish of eren to say that he enjoyed that, that he caressed the thought every night and clutched it tight into the unwinding talons in the drummer's hands now.
but it still made every part of him, not just his gut, tremor with cloying solace when all he knew was hell— and that haven wasn't something his own imagination created for his safety. styx was real, not the vast expanse of cloudy freedom in the sky as millions were plowed beneath him. ]
I'm glad you're here with me, Styx. [ there's a strain in his voice, one that makes the deepness of it go soft and quiet as the sting in his nose burns his eyes once he takes styx's hands in his own. ] So that makes two of us.
[very carefully, the drummer threads their fingers together and gives them a gentle squeeze. it can't be selfishness if they're both happy, right? that's just...gratitude, in its rawest form.
no wonder Eren wasn't the only one whose eyes were burning.]
's a good match.
[and not an ounce of hesitation. there is a sureness in his heart that not even today can chase out, with all his deficiencies laid bare. after all, this too was his reality.
he'd thought to fetch the first aid kit after making sure that his friend was situated neatly but that plan has changed. bandages could always be applied later...but this sort of salve could only be applied here and now.]
[ the silence is just as stifling as eren trying to hold in a sniff too loud to the point that the still intact veins in his neck strain. with an exhale, it comes out— and the fact that he's in need of crying to just fucking put it out there. he wasn't saddened. he wasn't alone for once, how could he be anything but beholden?
how much space is still vacant for two massive beasts to share a sofa? it might not be too much, but maybe for just a few minutes . . . it could work? eren's laced fingers and talons in between tug kindly once, then twice at the spaces that had him generously holding styx's hand and languidly trying to shift his body into the back cushions until his spines are smoothed along the curve of his vertebrae. the pull on the drummer's arm is guiding into the space he's made for him to lay on his side with him, for just a few moments.
it wasn't like he was dying; maybe the bandages really could wait. ]
[this was good as well...Styx had wanted to do this anyway after everything was wrapped up, and it feels as if some tension in his chest has been released when he feels the other man give his hands a little pull.
can they really fit properly on this single piece of furniture? not really. but the drummer sure as hell doesn't care, not when he's settling very carefully into the spot reserved just for him. he's glad to be the one on the end, his back arced against the world; Eren could cry in safety now, without fear of his vulnerability being plucked away by undeserving eyes.
it's something that could easily be spoken aloud, but he feels words may shatter the entire moment. he allows it to dampen their bond instead and focuses on foreheads nearly brushing, legs pressed up against one another. there isn't room between them for much more than a sigh now but he likes it, tangled hands still held between one another. if he's careful he can hear the rhythm of both their heartbeats.]
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no subject
it's good that Eren seems to have gathered up enough energy to enter their home under his own power; this allows the drummer just enough time to properly shut the door at last. the chill seeping through the entryway would take a few minutes to dissipate, but that was fine. their presence would warm things better than the insulation.]
's hard sometimes, isn't it? You're pushing with all you got, 'nd it still feels like you're standing still.
[effort didn't work like that, he knew, but when progress remained so infinitesimal for so long it became more of a struggle to hold onto a logical perspective. what good was conjuring up flames if his friends still cried?
thoughts like that...they came from the dark hole in his mind like grasping hands. years of worthless could never erode as easily as one might hope, not when they carried the whispering voices of all the people he'd disappointed in his life. how much momentum could motivation build up, really? his desire to protect had never flared higher, but at times it still felt like nothing against the solidity of his natural limitations.
...not right now, though. there's enough weight being shared between them as it was, and - today, perhaps, it was better to stand still. how else could he brace anything against himself?]
no subject
he needs to breathe, now. his shoulders ache and in a matter of moments the pressure on his side is uncomfortable, but, endurable. his neck was bandaged underneath his winter poncho, but it was wet and beginning to seep through. just a dot from the outer layer that would soon reveal a larger stain on hospital gauze. ]
Forward is all I ever see. [ even if he feels like he’s running in place. his words come between breaths, and while his limbs feel heavy to beckon his witch, something in their bond does it for him: a suggestion, if anything, to come closer and stay close. ] I wouldn’t’ve made it this far if it weren’t for that.
[ he tries removing part of the poncho, his talons catch on the fabric’s hood, and bbrrrrrrp. it rips, and he can’t pull further without ripping it more. ]
no subject
it's not really funny, he knows. many have been the days when simple little accidents like this have felt like blows powerful enough to hurl him from the precipice.]
'm glad. [softly spoken, with a tone that doesn't require response if answering proves too taxing.] Guess that's kinda selfish, but...'m real glad I got to meet you.
[even like this? a traitorous voice in the drummer's mind whispers, gleeful with its malicious doubt. Styx flinches when his own broad hands tear more of that poor poncho but still answers back to himself with a resounding yes. especially like this.]
no subject
eren has had his long, ongoing fair share of selfishness, and maybe styx was right in a way— but eren couldn't see it as selfish. there was nothing left for him. redemption was out of his sights and he hardly thought he deserved the chance. he'd hit his all time low and there was still someone out here to look at him the way no one could. maybe it was selfish of eren to say that he enjoyed that, that he caressed the thought every night and clutched it tight into the unwinding talons in the drummer's hands now.
but it still made every part of him, not just his gut, tremor with cloying solace when all he knew was hell— and that haven wasn't something his own imagination created for his safety. styx was real, not the vast expanse of cloudy freedom in the sky as millions were plowed beneath him. ]
I'm glad you're here with me, Styx. [ there's a strain in his voice, one that makes the deepness of it go soft and quiet as the sting in his nose burns his eyes once he takes styx's hands in his own. ] So that makes two of us.
no subject
no wonder Eren wasn't the only one whose eyes were burning.]
's a good match.
[and not an ounce of hesitation. there is a sureness in his heart that not even today can chase out, with all his deficiencies laid bare. after all, this too was his reality.
he'd thought to fetch the first aid kit after making sure that his friend was situated neatly but that plan has changed. bandages could always be applied later...but this sort of salve could only be applied here and now.]
no subject
how much space is still vacant for two massive beasts to share a sofa? it might not be too much, but maybe for just a few minutes . . . it could work? eren's laced fingers and talons in between tug kindly once, then twice at the spaces that had him generously holding styx's hand and languidly trying to shift his body into the back cushions until his spines are smoothed along the curve of his vertebrae. the pull on the drummer's arm is guiding into the space he's made for him to lay on his side with him, for just a few moments.
it wasn't like he was dying; maybe the bandages really could wait. ]
no subject
can they really fit properly on this single piece of furniture? not really. but the drummer sure as hell doesn't care, not when he's settling very carefully into the spot reserved just for him. he's glad to be the one on the end, his back arced against the world; Eren could cry in safety now, without fear of his vulnerability being plucked away by undeserving eyes.
it's something that could easily be spoken aloud, but he feels words may shatter the entire moment. he allows it to dampen their bond instead and focuses on foreheads nearly brushing, legs pressed up against one another. there isn't room between them for much more than a sigh now but he likes it, tangled hands still held between one another. if he's careful he can hear the rhythm of both their heartbeats.]