I don't usually post comments at the top of my Fayana fics but I need to apologise for taking way too long to update. School just really made itself known for a good six months. Sorry
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There is a negative energy hovering above your house once she is discharged from the hospital.
You don't like it.
It feels like dark magic, and you still have yet to bind the circle. Her magical energy wasn't quite strong enough to handle being bound to five other magical beings.
It was a few weeks before the red branching across her arm finally disappeared completely but there were still a few twitches that had yet to die down entirely. You see the frustration of having to deal with the painful spikes in muscle movement zip across her face at dinner; your mother simply flashes an apologetic smile because there weren't any more crystals left, and she didn't know any other healing remedies.
Sometimes it's the skin just below her eye.
Sometimes it's her whole arm and she misses her mouth with the fork full of food, or a line is accidentally drawn across her concentrated efforts to write her name without screwing it up. It takes a few tries before she can manage it without the growl beneath her breath and the scrunch of the paper aimed at the waste bin.
You're sitting on your bed one afternoon leaning against the bed head, pillows stacked up behind you. She is comfortably situated between your legs, casually reading one of the many books you have managed to hide around your room, so any visitors won't see how taken you are with the idea of delving into a new world for hours at a time.
By the end of chapter seventeen of a favoured science fiction novel, she's huffed and puffed angrily several times from the unwilling movement of her hand holding the novel. Just days before, she had accidentally blown up all of the light bulbs in the dining room's chandelier out of pure frustration. It was an antique. Your mother was not happy to say in the least.
So, rightfully fearing that your room might not be able to sustain an attack of any kind, and you liked it the way it was in an organised chaos kind of way, your hand lifted to cover hers and your other arm tightens around her waist; a reminder that you are there to catch her when she falls.
The growl halfway out of her mouth stops and she resigns herself to sinking into your embrace.
"I'm sorry," she says quickly. She's apologised more times than you can count in the past few days. You try to tell her that it's okay, but she almost refuses to believe you. It's getting harder and harder to convince her.
"It's okay. Really. Nothing's broken." You press a haphazard kiss to her shoulder and pull her closer.
"I am," she mutters a minute later, under her breath and probably thinking that you didn't hear that.
You don't answer her until later that night, after dinner and night time routines have been completed and you are facing her in bed, the door cracked just as your mother prefers. Not that it stops you. Your fingers are lightly tracing the now invisible branches.
"You're not broken." You hear a soft huff in the darkness, and it passes across your neck less than a second later. "I won't let you. You're in the dark at the moment, but as cheesy as this is, there is a light at the end of the tunnel."
There's a beat's pause.
"You."
"Hmm?"
"The light at the end of the tunnel." Another beat. "My light. It's you."
Your giddy smile falters for just a moment. "Do you believe that?" She was there for you when you needed her. You even pushed her away, but she still came back. Again and again until it was your turn to fight. Now you're up to bat.
"Yes," she whispered.
You kiss her. "Good. Don't forget that, Diana."
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