[“The time we have left with them,” Armin says, like this won’t last. It stabs through her, a cold shock that leaves her gasping. And—
[She doesn’t have it in her to scream. Fuck, she is tired of this; tired of curling and choking, of crying and whining and bitching and blaming. Abrupt as a death throe, Aubrey tries to wrench around. It doesn’t matter, it’s still pitch black, but she wants to see Armin. To see his beautiful, broken face; to hold him tight until his voice in his throat matches the hurt in his head; to kiss him again, and again, and again, until they can think of nothing else.
[He deserves better than her, better than this. But for once in her stupid mistake of a life, Aubrey can try to focus on someone else.]
It’s Hell, Armin. [And yet it’s still a miserable noise. She reaches for his face. Despite every stupid impulse, this is as far as she’ll go.] It’s Hell, and we… we have each other.
[It's like he can feel her reaching. He can't see her face, but he can hear the way she gasps and crows and cries. She's so close. Armin so rarely had time for love amongst all the hate and rot of his world, but there was love, and he knows how it feels when you understand what "pour your heart out" means. He's overflowing.
[Fingers bump fingers, because they have each other, and they're reaching toward each other, even in this pitch black, mourning darkness. His thumbs find her cheeks, and he holds this beloved human's face in his hands. How could anyone ever see them as monsters, when they grieve like this, and cry, and yearn for something greater?]
It's alright. [There's a crack in his voice, and it's so hard to tell if he's laughing or crying.]
[There he is. There he is. His hands find her face, and hers wrap around his; a hold on each other, through the pitch. Darkness wrings out every ounce of their beating hearts and then some; there’s always more to grieve. Aubrey brings their foreheads together, her own pounding from the crying jag that just won’t end, and Armin speaks like he’s been here before, might be here forever.]
And I’m with you.
[He’s close; he’s been close, he’s stayed close. Armin’s voice falters; Aubrey can’t blame herself when he’s laid his sins on a petal-stained table. Is it a victory that he’s finally cracking? God, but he thinks they’ll lose them again—]
We’ll stay together…
[Of course they’ll be here. They’ll carry this black for the rest of their days.]
[Armin's eyes fall closed, tears dripping into the blackness. He can't see it, but they burst in little ripples of faint light against the ground.]
I love you.
[They never said it enough. It can never be said enough. You wake up in the morning, and by the time you're lying in bed at night, you've lost something you couldn't imagine living without yesterday.]
I… I love you, too. [There’s no hesitation to the sentiment. She just wants it out without a crack—but oh, is it a desperate thing. They’ll never say it enough.] I love you, Armin.
[He won’t see her lean, but he’ll feel the tug from trembling fingers, the brush against the tip of his nose, the shaking breath on his lips.] I love you, Armin… [And she tries her damndest to kiss him.]
[It's hard not to fumble in the dark, but Armin's had to do so before. They're still holding each other's faces. It isn't hard to find her. Their noses brush, then bump blindly, but the kiss is found. Armin thinks he'll never kiss someone again like it isn't the last time - desperate, warm, bleeding. It'll never be enough, but he'd never reject it.
[Such bloody, precious hearts they have. They need to breathe, but Aubrey doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to mangle it, even for all they’re aching, even when Armin’s promise stabs her anew. Hell is being gouged alive and having to keep breathing. And they were so sweet before…]
[We’ll find each other. I’ll never stop searching. She didn’t when the world howled empty. Why now....]
[A hand finds his nape, clasps it. It’s so practiced by now; it was Sunny last time, Eren before. When will she see them again? When will anyone ever hold them again? Aubrey can only say she won’t let go. The world doesn’t care about keeping promises.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[How the hell does he do that? The voice he’s not speaking with sounds just as broken as her, maybe worse. Out loud, it’s the strongest thing.]
[You’re too good to me, Armin… She knows he’s said otherwise.] You are…
[Both Aubrey’s voices are the same. The unspoken one just doesn’t need her to breathe. You’re so hurt, too… and so beautiful.]
no subject
I know, Aubrey...
[I know...There's so much to blame ourselves for.]
We can't waste the time we have left with them doing it...
[It's not that easy. I know...I know...]
no subject
[“The time we have left with them,” Armin says, like this won’t last. It stabs through her, a cold shock that leaves her gasping. And—
[She doesn’t have it in her to scream. Fuck, she is tired of this; tired of curling and choking, of crying and whining and bitching and blaming. Abrupt as a death throe, Aubrey tries to wrench around. It doesn’t matter, it’s still pitch black, but she wants to see Armin. To see his beautiful, broken face; to hold him tight until his voice in his throat matches the hurt in his head; to kiss him again, and again, and again, until they can think of nothing else.
[He deserves better than her, better than this. But for once in her stupid mistake of a life, Aubrey can try to focus on someone else.]
It’s Hell, Armin. [And yet it’s still a miserable noise. She reaches for his face. Despite every stupid impulse, this is as far as she’ll go.] It’s Hell, and we… we have each other.
no subject
[Fingers bump fingers, because they have each other, and they're reaching toward each other, even in this pitch black, mourning darkness. His thumbs find her cheeks, and he holds this beloved human's face in his hands. How could anyone ever see them as monsters, when they grieve like this, and cry, and yearn for something greater?]
It's alright. [There's a crack in his voice, and it's so hard to tell if he's laughing or crying.]
It's Hell. And I'm right here with you.
no subject
[There he is. There he is. His hands find her face, and hers wrap around his; a hold on each other, through the pitch. Darkness wrings out every ounce of their beating hearts and then some; there’s always more to grieve. Aubrey brings their foreheads together, her own pounding from the crying jag that just won’t end, and Armin speaks like he’s been here before, might be here forever.]
And I’m with you.
[He’s close; he’s been close, he’s stayed close. Armin’s voice falters; Aubrey can’t blame herself when he’s laid his sins on a petal-stained table. Is it a victory that he’s finally cracking? God, but he thinks they’ll lose them again—]
We’ll stay together…
[Of course they’ll be here. They’ll carry this black for the rest of their days.]
no subject
[Armin's eyes fall closed, tears dripping into the blackness. He can't see it, but they burst in little ripples of faint light against the ground.]
I love you.
[They never said it enough. It can never be said enough. You wake up in the morning, and by the time you're lying in bed at night, you've lost something you couldn't imagine living without yesterday.]
no subject
[Are the drops on her hands her own or his?]
I… I love you, too. [There’s no hesitation to the sentiment. She just wants it out without a crack—but oh, is it a desperate thing. They’ll never say it enough.] I love you, Armin.
[He won’t see her lean, but he’ll feel the tug from trembling fingers, the brush against the tip of his nose, the shaking breath on his lips.] I love you, Armin… [And she tries her damndest to kiss him.]
no subject
[I'll find you time and time again. I promise.]
no subject
[Such bloody, precious hearts they have. They need to breathe, but Aubrey doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to mangle it, even for all they’re aching, even when Armin’s promise stabs her anew. Hell is being gouged alive and having to keep breathing. And they were so sweet before…]
[We’ll find each other. I’ll never stop searching. She didn’t when the world howled empty. Why now....]
[A hand finds his nape, clasps it. It’s so practiced by now; it was Sunny last time, Eren before. When will she see them again? When will anyone ever hold them again? Aubrey can only say she won’t let go. The world doesn’t care about keeping promises.]
no subject