Chapter Text
The air seemed to cool around you as time stood still, blowing the rebelling strands away behind your ear, the cold air eating at your exposed skin stings, yet it doesn’t match the hurt in your eyes at seeing him so still.
There was an unreadable chill in his eyes as he looked at you, the glow in his eyes absent, not of loathe, just an emotion he couldn’t name seething inside him. But if it was anger, it wasn’t directed at you. Not at you, no, never at all at you. He wishes he could scold the world for making him feel so useless and unable to do anything, dreaming that he could put himself in your shoes so you wouldn’t have to suffocate.
Reminding him of his place as a speck of dust in this everlasting world, that despite all that he does, he is still nothing but a puppet to the strings that tied his own condemning fate. That yours were supposed to be cut before his were, and that revelation angers him. He blames himself for not noticing something like this sooner, he blames the world for keeping this from him, he blames time for taking you away from his hold.
The concept of mortality in the battlefield gets stripped away when he’s with you, because all he could see was you— his sweet and indelible lover. He takes one long look before he’s pulling you into his strong arms— face mushed and dug oppressively into your hair accompanied with soft lips resting on the crown of your hair. He reaches out for you in a way you’ve had the privilege to never ask him for— just like a loving puppy who's all that happy to earn you some warm hugs whenever you need them, and right now, he thinks, you need them the most.
“And ye know i’ll be right ‘ere, every step o’ the way.” His form is a rock hard shell against your own, using his full body heat to soothe your nerves after seeing you go tense at his reaction, whispering promises in your ear “‘m not leavin’ ye.” Like hell— if that was even possible, like it’s something you’d be afraid of happening at all. He hoped you hadn’t had any thoughts like it spiralling in your mind. If you had, he wanted to burn them all. The flint that ignites the spark in his eyes would never hold you with derision.
You feel something clog up your throat afterwards, the air stuck inside your lungs when he presses against you— something reassuring only locks you inside the walls you’ve built up. “J- Johnny…” He lets go at hearing your plea, worried eyes flickering in search of yours.
His frame falters when he hears the weakness in your voice, that something was wrong, noting the welled up tears in your glassy eyes as you attempt to breathe the clog out of your throat.
“Hey, hey. Tha’s okay bonnie. Deep breaths fer’ me yeah?” He assures you with a smile, keeping a close distance between the two of you.
“Tha’s it, sweets.”
Nodding weakly, you wet your achingly dry lips and finally looked into his eyes to try to ground yourself. It was the least you could do for him couldn’t you? After all he didn’t run away like the others would at hearing your sickness, sometimes you’d receive an apology for a mistake they never did, a ‘hope you feel better soon’ without ever being there or an apprehensive nod before moving on to the next topic of the conversation.
He notices the gears shifting in your head, knowing something wasn’t making your situation any better. He recognizes stiff shoulders like the ones he’d have during those nights, but seeing it in your frame makes him fight a frown. He wants to lift those burdens up your shoulders and try his best to ease you through it, though he did it better than you could ever do yourself. Not pressing unwantedly and solely focusing on you at the present moment— until you could properly inhale enough air into your lungs. He apologizes for frightening you, even when he hadn’t meant it.
“Can… can I hug ye now?” He softens his gaze meekly, radiant eyes staring into yours— sometimes you wished yours weren’t so dull and lifeless under his captivating ones. Wanting to return the favor of having beautiful ones to stare at, instead of the two black holes you found to be devoid of any light in the mirror.
You don’t know the scrunch of your brows as you stare at the concrete floor, like he was something to be worshipped from a distance. Have you not heard what he said? He said he wanted to hug you— hold you close, why would he ever want that?
You don’t know why you're accusing him of haughtiness and the thoughts you put into your own head. Placing yourself in his shoes proves to be your worse undoing.
Maybe this was why you were put in your current misery, so that he wouldn’t have to break your heart to finish dealing with you— he was far too kind to do that. Maybe the world thought it was less cruel for the both of you. He could cut you off without having to say it to your face, not when the goodbye was permanent, that was probably it.
He notices the fidgeting in your hands accompanied by the biting inside your cheek.
“Bonnie?”
Your jaw clenches. “Stop that.” your voice cracked in the middle of something you were trying to say.
He tilts his head in response, flashing his brows up. “Stop wha’? Callin’ ye a right beauty?” He chuckles, proud at the words spilling from his mouth, hoping it would maybe take your mind off your sickness for once. There was so much to life that you had to—
“That.” You couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “Like you pity me.”
He blinks and retracts his teeth, he doesn’t know what he did wrong but clearly he’s said something at the wrong time, and he steps back. Just enough to give you some sort of space— even when it killed him to.
His lips form a line, “Ye really think i’m out here standin’ out o’ pity?” his voice was quiet too, like he was afraid of scaring you away. Like you’d break if he was too loud. Though you couldn’t miss the strain in his lilt, and it hisses when it reaches both your ears.
You frown, turning away like it was the reasonable thing to do, “You can’t build that life with me, Johnny. That life you’ve dreamt of. Don’t make me feel like I’m taking it away from you.”
“Takin’ what away from me?” His brows furrowed into a line and his eyes flash with something but simmers down the second he speaks, tone minimized enough for the distance you kept. “Ah chose that life with ye, alrigh’? And hell if i can’t ave’ tha’ then i’d rather have just ‘ave ye.”
You stay silent, but there was an undeniable look in your eyes as you shut them to stop the tears from falling. He continues after briefly looking at you.
“Ye think i wouldnae do tha’ for someone ah love? Ah know the costs and a’hm willin’ tae take it, a’ ghràidh.” He snaps involuntarily, the brogue you loved curls tighter around the edges of his words, slurred and rugged without lacking its meaning.
“Cause if it were the other way round, i’d…” You blink and shut your eyes tightly, unable to look at anything at all.
“Ye’d what?”
The hand around your chest clumsily grips your other, one gripping against skin like you’re about to claw it off and the other clenched tightly into a fist as you fight the words out like vomit. “I’d regret ever loving me.”
“Fuckin’ hells hen…”
He still looks at you even though you avoid him, jaw tight with his head tilted to the side, watching you work through the words you couldn’t force out. But you don’t say anything else. In fact, you open your eyes slowly— expecting him to be out of your sight. How could you expect him to do that?
Yet he isn’t. And he’s still here. He doesn’t run from the ugliest thing your mind has ever conjured up. Exhaustion takes over you when your whole body trembles at the way your legs feel like jelly, arms immobile and before you could even collapse, both his hands are at your side— steadying you.
Grounding you like he promised.
And your face presses into his shoulder deliberately, you start but your voice fails halfway through your demand, a desperate sob escaping your throat instead.
He leaves you in debt of an apology.
He shook his head like he could read your mind. “… Shh. s’ okay.”
He closes his arms around you at hearing your cries like it was the only thing that mattered, and it only burrowed further in the safety of his arms.
“See, leannan? Ah cannae let ye go jus’ like tha’. ” He frowns, holding your face gently, keeping his gaze steadied to your own without letting a stray tear fall at seeing your state proved to be a challenge, but he prevails anyway— in fear of losing the sight of light in your deep, dark ones.
“Ah’m still here.” He smiles weakly. “And ‘m not plannin’ on leavin’.”
And he doesn’t give a shite on how long it’ll take for him to prove it to you.