It sounded like rain. His fists beat against the door until his knuckles bloodied, a drizzle becoming a deluge.
It took time. It was a saying Isaac wanted to crumble up in his hand. Time didn't exist when he was lying in Derek's arms. He closed his eyes and saw his father with his throat ripped open. Good. He thought. A river of blood was circling him.
There were nights he couldn't sleep. The bags under his eyes grew dark and puffy. His eyelids were heavy and kept closing. His long eyelashes tickled Derek's cheek. He used to hate the darkness, the silence that bore under his skin, but Derek had made him love it. Hunger for it.
Their limbs were entangled and their sweaty, aching skin knew only the touch of the other. His heart hadn't know anything but the rain, the static of the TV, his own solitude until Derek had sank his teeth into his flesh and made him his.
It was the devastation of a soul to love.