Gilbert stood on softly creaking silver as the black pressed down on him. When the pressure was enough for him to bow his head he saw his deepest desires cruelly reflected in the cold, unfeeling colour, taunting him. "Shut up," he hissed with words like ice shattering in water, "Stop showing me these things."
But when the black eased up just a little, just enough for him to lift his eyes, he would see the golden figure of Lovino taunting him with his unreachable perfection. There was no escape for him, not even within his own mind, trapped beneath the never ending ebony and the glass silver on the verge of shattering and stabbing into him, tearing apart.
His chest felt tight, like some kind of chain had wrapped itself around his lungs and kept wrapping and wrapping and wrapping and-
There was a great creak, like a coffin being opened after laying in a crypt for many hundreds of years, and then the crash of glass on stone flooring. He'd lost his grip, anxiety was taking over. He tried to scream for help, but there was no air in his lungs, he tried to claw his way out of the black, but his hands could find no purchase and then everything began to glow.
"Gilbert," a coffee flavoured voice whispered, bitter and sweet at the same time, "Take a deep breath..."
The glow held him until the silver slowly pieced itself back together and he could open his eyes to find himself staring into eyes the colour of the Earth- green on top and brown on bottom, mixing in the middle to give the impression of bushes against tree trunks and grass against dirt. These were Lovino's eyes, a perfect contrast to Gilbert's own mix of blood and tears, as that's all Gilbert's eyes looked to himself.
Lovino would agree that Gilbert's eyes were tears and blood, but perhaps not in the same regard that Gilbert held for them. The blood was that of a soldier in battle, shed in the endless war Gilbert fought against all the many demons, and the tears that of an angel who's wings had been ripped off by a cruel and uncaring God. It was beautiful, it was broken. And Lovino often worried about it.
Gilbert still shook from the intensity of his anxiety attack, but managed a grin nonetheless, "Hey, I'm fine okay? Nothing can break the awesome me down for long," Gilbert whispered,voice still carrying the jagged edges of broken glass, now slightly dulled.
"I know that, but fuck you I'll worry about you if I want to," Lovino responded, the bitterness slowly beginning to overtake the sweet, but there would always be that delicious undertone of the gentler flavour to remind Gil Lovino really did care. Even if platonically.
