Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater
Hold Me And Don't Let Go
He's woken up in enough cold sweats to know what this is. The crushing feeling in his chest coupled by the fact that his lungs are working overtime gives him the acute feeling that he's suffocating. His heart is running off on its own and he pants into his pillow as he tried to stop the burning in his head. He's quiet, nothing but the smiling moonlight snaking its way through his open window makes his sheets seem bone white when he blinks.
He's a sweating mess with thoughts flashing jagged in his mind like glass memories. The shards jab into him with every harsh breath against the cotton fabric and his voice is exclusively gasps. They sound like strangled words in between the thundering in his ears and, unbidden, the name of the person he wants most forces its way out of his throat; as if calling to her will stop the painful convulsions.
It's as if he's drowning. There's a pressure weighing on every muscle and maybe, he thinks wildly with tears in his eyes, this is what it feels like to have your soul torn apart. And at the same time, maybe drowning is a bit too tame of a term. Maybe it's more like fire that ripples through his veins and chars whatever is left of his heart because every inch hurts and burns and he wishes that it could stop.
Relief comes in the form of a familiar shadow, one he has walked in for the very purpose of keeping it safe. It slinks across his room and the solace he feels when cool flesh pulls back sweat slicked hair is indescribable. It's fingers and then a hand and then he's being pulled towards something smooth and soft and extremely soothing. Hands are threaded through his hair and he buries his face in this smooth shadow. Desperately, he clutches at this physical slice of peace and tries to greedily drink up the calm it offers.
His name is Soul. He remembers it only because she whispers it to him every time he gasps her mangled name into her chest. The sounds SoulSoulSoulSoul rush again and again and again across his skin like fresh water. For the first time tonight he's able to breathe easier. Maybe sleep is out of the picture but if he can hold her for the rest of the night, then maybe it'll be fine. Maybe it won't hurt so much in the morning.
Sometimes, Soul can't remember these nights. There are enough night terrors in his life's repertoire to lose count. He wakes up and she's gone to take a shower or make breakfast. They don't speak of it, and those days he convinces himself that nothing went wrong the night before. For for now, shivering in his arms, he tries to embed the memory of it into his mind. He's not alone anymore and in this moment he's comforted by it; by her. With every second that passes, there's another reassurance pressed into him in the form of her lips against his hairline and her fingers combing through the tangles. She's here, with him, and for now, that's enough.
