I'll never say

. . .

Patryck clung to Paul's midsection, voice hoarse and cracking. How long had they been here? A few days? Weeks? Must've been. How long had he spent crying over Paul, begging him to come back? A few hours? Perhaps a few days. He didn't know. All he knew is that he was scared and desperately crying. His time was spent sobbing while holding onto Paul, then he'd pass out from sheer exhaustion. When he'd wake he'd find Paul the same way and it'd all start over again. At some point he'd lost his voice, so he could no longer voice his fears. He'd stopped trying. 

For a few moments, he'd sit up, cradle Paul's face and stared into his glassy eyes, swirling with cloudy emotions. He'd try and talk with him, hoping that even if Paul never reacted, he'd still hear Pat's soothing words. Now though it was nearly impossible to push the breathy words out. 

"Do you remember when we were still in high school?" Patryck croaked, watching as muted recognition flashed in his eyes. "Back then you were so closed off and reserved, even to me. You must've been so scared to be on your own. But then we got to know each other, and we fell in love. You brought me to a park late at night. Do you remember the song you sang to me when you finally told me you loved me? I do, I'll never forget.." 

Softly, he began to sing. "Someday, somewhere, somehow, you'll love again. You just need to find someone. Someday, somewhere, somehow, you'll love again. You just need to find someone. Someone, who treats you better, someone who wants you around. Someday, somewhere, somehow, you're gonna feel found."  He couldn't talk anymore, his voice barely audible.

He closed his eyes for just a moment, letting his hands fall to his sides. Patryck was so tired, so broken down. He flinched when a hand cupped his cheek, and He very quickly looked up. Paul's glossy silver eyes were wet with tears. He was looking at him, not through him, gold met silver. His breathing was surprisingly even. "Today, right here, right now, i already feel found" he breathed, blinking away the tears.

Patryck tried desperately to talk, but his voice was so shot it hurt. Paul shushed him, eyes still a bit hazy but he gave him a vague smile. "Don't… strain yourself…" His speech was slow and slurred, like it too hurt to speak. Patryck nodded, pressing his forehead against Paul's. "Here… I'm right here."

"Paul.." He sobbed, biting his lip to try and silence himself. He gasped quietly. "Miss you, just want you, please…" 

"Shh, shhh. Don't hurt… yourself." Paul pressed a shaky kiss to his lips, holding his face comfortably. "It's… gonna be okay. I'm o… going to be okay. So will you." Patryck nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. There was so much he wanted to say, to talk about, but he couldn't. It hurt to try, and he didn't want Paul to know just how much he was hurting. 

Paul rubbed soothing circles into Pat's back.  Softly, he began to hum. Pat didn't want to fall asleep, wanted to spend as much time as he could wrapped up in Paul's arms. Even so, the soft lullaby lulled him to sleep.

__________

It was bound to happen, Tord didn't know how he managed to trick himself into believing otherwise for so long.

It all happened so fast tord could barely wrap his head around it. All his time here, all the pain he went through, it meant nothing. His attempts to protect his army were in vain. It was only a matter of time until the Black army found his bases. 

The sickos weren't satisfied in just purging them, no, they wanted to rub it in. Make sure Tord was thoroughly scarred. He wasn't very surprised when two no named soldiers stormed into his tiny room and dragged his lovers away. He remembered the feeling of toms warm embraced being ripped away, his fingers bruising Tord's soft flesh as he tried to stay.