[Maybe that's what it is. Or part of it, anyway — that desperation that lingers under every move he's making right now, every step, it comes from somewhere. It comes from knowing that in the end, there's some measure of futility to this. In some ways it's hopeless. Whether he loves Joseph or not, this won't last. Joseph will go back someday, and he won't. Which means, for all he knows, every kiss could be the last one.]
[He's not good at middle grounds, casual attachments. He either cuts himself off entirely or falls hard and fast and forever. The trouble with this is that forever isn't a possibility. The life he wanted, back when life was something he had, the family he hoped for — it was supposed to be with someone like Suzie, not Joseph. And now, even if he was able to choose, his choice doesn't matter. He's dead. Dead is dead.]
[And even despite all that, he doesn't stop. Even if he weren't already in love, he'd be falling. Joseph's lips and teeth are against his throat, and he bites his lip and moves gently towards him, gently, unconsciously, desperately. Always desperately. This is the first time, probably, that he's wanted to be alive since he died. But wanting doesn't make it so.]
Then . . . just stay with me.
["Just", like it's easy. He blinks at Joseph and spreads his hand, so his fingers are splayed across Joseph's stomach.]
You will, won't you?
[Forever, except not forever. His hand rises and falls; he blinks again.]
no subject
[He's not good at middle grounds, casual attachments. He either cuts himself off entirely or falls hard and fast and forever. The trouble with this is that forever isn't a possibility. The life he wanted, back when life was something he had, the family he hoped for — it was supposed to be with someone like Suzie, not Joseph. And now, even if he was able to choose, his choice doesn't matter. He's dead. Dead is dead.]
[And even despite all that, he doesn't stop. Even if he weren't already in love, he'd be falling. Joseph's lips and teeth are against his throat, and he bites his lip and moves gently towards him, gently, unconsciously, desperately. Always desperately. This is the first time, probably, that he's wanted to be alive since he died. But wanting doesn't make it so.]
Then . . . just stay with me.
["Just", like it's easy. He blinks at Joseph and spreads his hand, so his fingers are splayed across Joseph's stomach.]
You will, won't you?
[Forever, except not forever. His hand rises and falls; he blinks again.]
I can feel you breathing.