Twilight
Beside Desmond is a nice place to lay after the hectic days we are thrown into. His relaxed breathing is calming, assuring me he is still alive – assuring me he has not left me. He is still the same idiotic American I met after Lucy saved him from the Templars. The only thing different is me. I don't dislike him the same way as when I first met him.
I turned, the sheets rustling quietly under my legs as I nestled my face in Desmond's back. I breathed his scent in deeply, wrapping my arm tightly around his stomach. The Bleeding Effect was worse than ever, after having spent so long living the life of Ezio. He was Altair for a very short time compared to his time as Ezio, and it was obvious in the way he acted.
I fear one morning I will awake and it will not be Desmond beside me, but Ezio. As this is my greatest fear, I realize I may be more protective of the other man than I can rightfully be. Desmond will simply smile at me in the heat of the moment, causing my fears to slip from my mind for a relatively peaceful while.
The fear always returns when the world falls quiet, the life of day receding so the gloom of night encroaches on the surrounding fields.
Desmond stirs under my arm, and I realize I'm holding onto him much too tightly. I have woken him, and I feel terrible. He doesn't catch much shut-eye these days, his full attention on the Animus and his ancestor.
He turns under my arm, giving me the look that tells me he understands what is wrong. The roles reverse as he takes me in his arms, resting his forehead against mine. His eyes are gentle and reassuring as he gently presses his lips to mine, our noses brushing softly together.
"It'll be fine. I'm not going anywhere, Shaun. Get some sleep. You know you'll need it in the morning."
Like a flash, I feel my eyelids drooping, and no matter the willpower I put into keeping them open, the angelic vision of my lover slips from my sight as I am pulled into the darkness of slumber.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~
I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly against the sunlight filling the room. My neck and back were stiff as I straightened from where I had been laying hunched over. My heart jerked painfully as my eyes passed over the comatose face of Desmond. My hope has not wavered these past few weeks. I believe Desmond will make a full recovery. He has to make a full recovery – not just for the world, but for me.
I'm tired of the painful dreams. I'm tired of being ripped away from Desmond every morning. I reached out, gripping his hand tightly in one of my own. His blood still flows, his heart still beats. Desmond is still alive, surviving another torturous night.
He has to recover. There is no world without him.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~
A/N: A short drabble inspired by pictures I was looking over on deviantArt and the music I was listening to at the time. I believe this is the first time I've tried first-person on this site, but as my weak point is active and passive voice grammatically, I'm attempting to fine-tune my use of both. I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticism.
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed, as Ubisoft is the owner.