[mature] I will commit my soul to your door tonight; beth

[adna]

I will commit my soul to your door tonight, and I'll last 'til the gas fumes float on higher

Oh Beth, she thinks, nearly delirious with the emotions overwhelming her.

He had never wanted a life like this. Had never wanted any of the complications that have been introduced since he had the misfortune of running into her. She feels it like a brand against her throat, feels that painful knowing she is an inconvenience he never would have had to bear were it not for her.

But, for once, she doesn’t push such insecurities on him.

Does not make him bear the weight of that too.

Instead she cries softly into his neck, trying to focus on that familiar scent of him, on the way that he always smells slightly of smoke and pine needles and the earth. How he is the most solid thing that she has ever known—how he exists outside of the politics and power-grabbing of the world.

He is her Beth. He is home.

He asks her what she can do, and she crumbles against him, wants to crawl into his chest where she can stay safe forever. “Just hold me,” she asks, her voice meek—certainly more meek than she has ever known herself to be, especially with him. “I don’t want to smell him any longer,” she chokes on the words and shudders against Beth. “I don’t want to feel him against me,” this quieter, a whisper.

She closes her serpentine eyes and breathes him in.

Just Beth.

Her Beth.

in a dying love I'm nothing but a stone cold liar but, oh, I got an iron in that fire

Adna