(the sum of us)
Elricest drabble. Ed to Al.
(274 words.)
Climb into bed, it's the weight of our sins, creeping in under the bedroom door. Still a sinner, still a cursed man-- still had to be a man. And it's you. Oh it's you. And I drowned, and I drowned; in your light, in your love. The only thing I ever cared about in this damnation, the only thing I ever lived for; you.
What have I done to you.
What could I have become, that I could do this to you?
And I wonder, and I do believe, and I want to run. So frightened to have faith. To hide the strength. Surrender.
I am cursed and I bleed for it and will bleed more, and have bled more. And you are cursed, too. Struck blind, impotent, and naïve. Seen too much, know too much. And all the time you fade just a little further from me, like I bleed, and I can feel it, pushing against my skin like I'm really going to lose you.
On that day I don't want to live. On that day I resign to end it all. I couldn't do it; I never. Not without you.
Not on that day.
So I climb into bed, more machine now than man, knowing full well that I have sealed our fate, and still you tuck me in against you, drawing my body into yours like a mother embraces her son. I can feel it. The warmth and the cold; the warmth beating through the cold. Your heart.
And in the end, you're just a little too good for me.
finite.