Work Text:
Darling, the blue ice coffin is awful, it's not for you at all.
What will I do to keep you here?
Do I wrap you up in feather weaving and hide you in a corner where no one will find you, or do I simply lock you up and hide you?
Don't stress too much, my dear, the devil's home is big enough that you don't have to worry about people finding you at all.
If we live together, I mean, if.
Stay at my house and I can take care of you comfortably every day. In the spring we can go and tend the garden, plant whatever flowers you want, it's no problem if you don't want to, just let me do it. I'm glad you can rely on me. It must be hot in the summer and the devil can't help it, but now we have air conditioning and can still hug each other and cling to each other. Not too hot inside the house. Outside the house the plants you planted are thriving and I must look at them with as much love as I do at you.
Ike, I admit you probably won't like British food very much. But no one can dislike autumn. We'll go on a picnic when you're done with your manuscript. I'll walk behind with the basket and you just go ahead and chase the furry critters, whatever furry critters they are, bunnies and squirrels are fine, and I'd hardly disagree if you want to have furry critters in the house. If you don't mind I'll have a golden retriever touring dog. Don't worry, that good boy's fondness for you must be as shocking as Luca's percolating emotions and then shouting out POG. God knows how cute I'd think you are when I see you ,a big furry cat with a bunch of little furry animals.
The British winters are so cold and long that I couldn't imagine surviving them before. But now it's different. We're both in the same house and just imagining it is enough to make me bounce off the floor with joy. You sit by the fireplace, reading while the fire burns, and I cook in the kitchen and occasionally enjoy your hardcore voice when you're in the mood. Believe me, my dear, my soul trembles every time I hear you open your mouth to sing. For the sake of being so charming that I often want to make you cry, you can eat only half of the vegetables served on your plate for dinner if you don't like them. But don't think about haggling dear, they're good for your health and the old devil can't possibly hurt you.
I fantasize about holding you in my arms and lying on a recliner. You lean into my arms and read intently. You occasionally smack my hands that are fumbling around in your clothes with displeasure. When you get tired of reading and start to yawn, I'm responsible for reaching out and taking the book, taking off your glasses, giving you a little squeeze on the back of your neck and letting you curl up comfortably in my arms and sleep. A warm fire glows in the fireplace and every now and then there is the crackling sound of burning wood. In this tranquil setting, listening to the sound of your shallow breathing, I can only feel overwhelmed with happiness. My heart has been completely filled with you for a long time. You are so cute that I want to fuck you hard and make you cry.
If that's not enough, what else do I need to do for you to stay with me? What vows do I need to make and what covenants do I need to sign?
My heart is only so big and already a big part of it is all on you. If you don't stay by my side, the other small part is going to be lonely, and when I am lonely, what I will do, I don't know, but I hope you don't know either. The devil's actions are not always good, at least I think so.
I reminisce about our encounters and miss our meetings.
Honey, I don't know if anyone has ever said that you are really super, super sexy in bed. I hope no one has said anything though because I don't want them to see this side of you.
I want every gasp, every cry, every plea you make in bed to be because of me.
I am sorry, my little sweet thing. I was a bit too selfish, all I could think about was how to keep you and how to keep you with me. Could there be a possibility that you never actually wanted to be with me?
My suspicions may well be justified. If it wasn't for that, why don't you talk to me anymore, you won't even look up at me.
I've rambled on and on to you so much, just wanting a response from you. It is fine for you to say yes to me with joy, or to say no with a frown. Or if you want to digress again with ANYWAY, it's not impossible.I'm all for it.
Honey, give me some response, will you?
vox dropped to his knees and gazed at the blue ice coffin in front of him, where his young writer had fallen into a permanent slumber.
You know, darling, after I found out you were permanently dormant, all I felt was that the sun outside was colder than the biting coldest wind of an English winter.