𝔽ℝ𝔸𝔾𝕀𝕃𝔼

☠︎

Osyair sits next to Mercy, his legs tucked up underneath him, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. He's trying to ignore the knot in his stomach, but it's hard. His thoughts are spiraling again, the weight of his own emotions threatening to pull him under. The anxiety that's always there, lurking beneath the surface, is clawing at him. He hates it. He hates feeling out of control.

Mercy, ever the observant one, notices Osyair's nervous energy. His eyes flicker over to him, studying the way Osyair's fingers twitch and the way he keeps biting his lip. Mercy knows exactly what that look means. Osyair's brain is spinning, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts he can't escape from.

"Hey," Mercy's voice is soft, but it has an edge that makes Osyair pause. He looks up to find Mercy staring at him, his expression surprisingly gentle, yet still intense.

Osyair tries to smile, but it's weak, barely there. "I'm fine," he says, but even to his own ears, the words sound hollow.

Mercy doesn't buy it. He leans in slightly, his hand finding Osyair's wrist and pulling it gently, guiding him to face him. "No, you're not. You've been like this for the past hour. Talk to me."

Osyair hesitates, looking down at his lap. He doesn't want to burden Mercy with his mess. He never does. But Mercy isn't like everyone else. Mercy doesn't mind his mess. In fact, he craves it. He craves the chaos that Osyair brings with him. And that thought is what keeps Osyair tethered to him, even when his mind is clouded.

"I don't know... I feel..." Osyair starts, unsure how to put it into words. "I just feel like I'm too much, you know? Like... I'm never gonna be enough."

Mercy's expression softens, his fingers brushing over Osyair's hand with a tenderness that feels out of place in their usually chaotic dynamic. "You're more than enough," Mercy says firmly, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. "You're everything, Osyair. And I'm never going anywhere. You're mine. That means no one—nothing—is ever going to make me leave."

Osyair looks up at him, his heart skipping a beat at the raw sincerity in Mercy's voice. Mercy doesn't lie. Not to him. Mercy doesn't say things he doesn't mean.

"Mercy..." Osyair's voice cracks, and he feels vulnerable, exposed. He's always been afraid of not being enough. Afraid that one day, someone like Mercy—someone who owns him so completely—might decide that he's too much to handle. That he's too broken, too unstable.

Mercy doesn't wait for Osyair to finish speaking. He simply pulls him into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Osyair leans into it, breathing in the familiar scent of Mercy's cologne, the warmth of his body grounding him. There's something about the way Mercy holds him—something that makes him feel safe, even if just for a moment. Safe from the world. Safe from himself.

"You're not broken," Mercy whispers against his hair, his hands gently caressing Osyair's back. "You're mine, and that's all that matters. I'll never let you go. You'll never be too much for me."

Osyair closes his eyes, letting the words wash over him. He feels something deep inside of him settle, the chaos in his mind calming just a little. He doesn't need to fix himself, not when Mercy is here. Mercy accepts him, all of him—every broken part. Mercy treats him like he's something precious, even when Osyair feels like he's falling apart.

"I love you," Osyair murmurs, his voice barely audible as he clings to Mercy, his fingers digging into Mercy's shirt.

Mercy's hand gently lifts Osyair's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. The intensity in Mercy's eyes makes Osyair's breath catch in his throat. "I love you, too," Mercy says quietly. "And I'll love you no matter what."

Mercy leans down, pressing his lips against Osyair's, the kiss soft but full of unspoken promises. It's a kiss that speaks of control, yes—but also of understanding, of deep, unwavering devotion. Mercy holds him like he's the most important thing in the world, and for a moment, Osyair believes it.

As they pull apart, Mercy rests his forehead against Osyair's, his hands still gently holding him. "I need you, Osyair. I need you more than you could ever understand."

Osyair looks into Mercy's eyes, his chest tightening with emotion. "I need you, too," he says softly. "I can't do this without you."

Mercy's smile is small but full of something fierce, something protective. "You'll never have to," he says. "You're mine. Forever."