MAY'S P.O.V.
I didn't care he was being rude. I was so glad he was alive. He hair was tousled from me playing with it and his shirt was wrinkled from me balling the fabric in my hands. He didn't seem to mind though because he stayed in my arms without fixing a thing. He didn't move, or adjust, he was comfortable in my arms and that felt great to know.
"You okay?" He asked.
Yeah. Just thinking." I smiled down at him. He didn't return it.
I played with his hair and I heard a small moan come from his lips.
"Did you just-"
"No." He snapped.
"I like that sound.." I mumbled.
we sat in silence after that. I could tell he didn't really want to talk after being dead for 5 hours. I don't blame him, dying seems scary, but I'm so much more afraid of dying alone.
