[private] then it turned into something repeating

[fenris]

you know, I think it was born of a feeling that I got when I left from your home

then it turned into something repeating and I couldn’t let it alone

He would choose her every time. Over himself, over the world, over the things that should matter and yet pale in comparison to her. He would choose her and let the rest of it drown for all he cared. The only thing that came close was their two perfect children—and even that was questionable. Even that could be torn apart if he was ever put into a position where he had to choose and it is a wretched thing to know about one’s self. To know that you worship a deity that could ask everything of you and you could not say no.

But it had been that way from the very first moment for him.

From the first time they met, when she was so shy and searching so desperately for answers. From when they met and she had scars on her barely healed. When she was cold as ice and as furious as the sun. When they stand now with her pressed against him, the feeling so right and yet so akin to a knife to the throat. It makes no sense and he doesn’t try to force logic into the question. He just accepts it readily.

“You have had all of me from the first,” he says, open and honest with her, unashamed of the weakness or the vulnerability. There was no denying that she had captured his heart quickly, even when he had failed to do the same. Even now, he wonders if he is a consolation for her. A placeholder until better things come along or first loves come back to haunt him. He knows it’s a possibility. He cannot force himself to care.

He presses another kiss to her, marveling that she is close enough to allow it. That she will not drive him back with teeth and claw—yet, at least. “I would never break your heart,” he says low and slow, as if he could make her realize the truth of it by pure force. “I have never wanted anything more than to protect the very thing you say is cracked.” He stills, heart pounding in his chest, heat sweeping through him.

“I don’t give a damn about deserving, Luster. I never have.”

who’d have known that I’d ever be reeling simply from being on my own

oh, I craved and I craved and I craved and I craved to get back that feeling I’d known