Chapter Text
"You shot me." she rasps, watching him from above with eyes of steel. (even though they're both liars they face this simple truth together.)
He breathes deeply from below her, shifting his weight and leaning forward just slightly. "I know," his breath is long and pungent enough to be felt ghosting over her functioning leg, causing a chill to run down her spine. His cheeks are stained with tears she should have scoffed at, but now they cause an icy feeling to pool at the pit of her stomach. "And I'll make it up to you. I'll give my whole damn life to make it up to you," his eyes are now closed as he leans forward, pressing his forehead to her bum leg.
And she thinks for a moment that she might even feel it, as she chokes back tears in silence. She thinks for a moment she can feel the heat of his smooth, pale skin pressed against her knee, the flat of his nose against her shin, nostrils blowing thick, hot air out of his heavy lungs. A shaky hand moves from the bed to the air, reaching hesitantly for his neck. Her fingers move to the crown of his head, coming to rest in his nest of hair, threading through the dark strands.
(Its softer than it should be. He's a monster, not a boy. He is supposed to be the darkness, and she is supposed to be the light. But under her fingertips he's as fragile as her spine, as breakable as the thinnest plate of porcelain. She revels in his softness, his vulnerability.)
She closes her eyes and leans over him, one hand laying on his head and the other covering her face, elbow rested on her knee. She cries. She's not sure why. And before she realizes, she's been tucked into her bed (alone) and John Murphy is gone.