dreamland (bill skarsgard one shots)

32. it's all so incredibly loud - henry pearl

WARNINGS: angst, self doubt, smut

NOTE: if y'all can't already tell, i really love glass animals lol

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The late June air brushed across his cheeks, an invisible caress that that sent his mind into a state of longing. Longing for the very human touch of his lover, the whisper of her soft breath across his skin as she buried her face against his neck and breathed him in.

Henry had always wished that he could feel the warm sun on his face again, that he could run through a meadow on a bright summer morning and lay in the sand on the beach. And he still desired those things, but his priorities had shifted greatly after he fell in love.

To him, she was the sun on a summer day. She was the rush of the ocean against the shore on a Sunday afternoon. She was wildflowers in a meadow. She was everything he could ever dream of of more.

And most importantly, she was his.

Sometimes he felt like pinching himself. Surely there was no way he could be this lucky. He remembered the way his life used to be before she walked into it. Painting had been his only outlet, his only comfort, his only way of escaping his own world into another one. But it was different now.

Instead of painting a scene and wishing he could be there, he found himself painting her silhouette and knowing he could curl up in her welcoming arms every single night. She was his muse.

However, Henry had absolutely no idea what she saw in him. And sometimes, he let it eat away at him. No matter how many times she assured him that she loved him, body and soul, there was always a little part of him that wondered if her love ran as deep as his did. He felt like a burden, like he was dragging her down.

But she was there, on the nights when the insecurity clawed his way through his skin, when it bled from his brush onto his canvas in the form of darkened storm clouds hanging low over a city skyline.

He'd been quiet all night, she'd noticed. They ate dinner together by the light of candles, and after the dishes had been washed, he slipped outside onto the porch to sit with their dog, Lady. She'd let him have a few moments alone, because that seemed to be what he needed.

She busied herself with making tea for them both, and after she'd poured the boiling water into two mugs, she carried them both outside, stepping quietly onto the porch. Lady stood to greet her, tail wagging as her mama joined them.

Henry looked up at her as she approached, and in the light of the moon, she could see a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I made us some tea," she announced, offering him a mug.

He accepted it gratefully. "Thanks, darlin'."

She took a seat beside him on the porch swing, curling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. Nothing was said for a long while, leaving the pair to gaze out into the field in front of their house, and watch as the moon shifted in the sky. The breeze was gentle and ever so slight, but welcome.

She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart, and she breathed in before she spoke into the silence. "Sweetheart, is something wrong? You've been quiet tonight."

He hesitated, unsure of how to answer. He knew he should be honest with her, but sometimes it was hard. He hated to sour the air between them. "I...I just haven't been feeling much like myself lately, I guess."