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Heart itches. Mind lies next to him, his chest rising and falling in steady motions. Asleep. Even like this, he holds tight onto Heart. Suffocatingly tight. Mind’s arms are a vice around his body. Heart can’t do anything but succumb to him. Not that he dislikes the attention, nor does he dislike the arms tightly wrapped around him. Heart always liked pressure like that, even before…
Even before.
It helped with his heartaches; that relentless tangled knot of emotions in his chest. It helped him know he was wanted. He supposed what Mind is doing now also shows Heart he is wanted. Constantly by his side, not leaving him alone for a second. It’s nice. It is.
Heart still itches.
Heart shuffles slightly, attempting to untangle his arms from Mind’s grip. Mind shifts in his sleep, readjusting his grasp and pulling Heart tighter. Luckily for Heart, in the midst of Mind’s readjustment he manages to free his arms. He can’t help but let out a choked noise at how firmly Mind is holding him. It’s not enough.
He knows what he needs.
Heart braces himself, taking in a deep breath (not that it matters, not that anything he could do would matter) before raising his arms to his neck. His fingers splay out as he wraps them around his neck. He simply lays there like that, taking comfort in the familiar weight of hands against his neck, his throat, his vocal cords. It’s not the same as when Soul did it, of course it isn’t.
Soul’s touch against him was divine, always. This is merely a facsimile. Even knowing (does he know?) that Whole is not real it all still feels hollow when compared to Soul.
It doesn’t matter. He’ll take what he can get; and he’s only getting started.
Heart tenses his fingers, lightly cutting off his airflow. He barely has to fight the urge to gasp for breath; Mind’s refusal to grant him this solace has made him slightly unpractised, but that’s fine. It’s like riding a bike, really. He’ll never forget– not entirely.
The ache against his neck prompts a smile to twist upon his face. This feels about right. He wishes it were someone else, though. Anyone but himself. Memories flash through his senses unbidden, of Soul doing this to him countless times.
He misses Soul. He thinks he does, anyway. He can’t be sure.
He can’t go back to Soul. He can’t leave Mind. He just wishes they could all be together, entwined. Not Whole, but entwined nonetheless.
Heart tightens his fingers. He can feel his pulse through his neck, beginning to speed up.
He needs more. He needs something other than himself.
Heart removes his hands from his neck, even as the loss makes his chest ache with need. He reaches to his side, where Mind’s hands are clinging to him. Ever-so-carefully, he takes Mind’s hands. The cold metal seeps into his own hands near instantly. He wonders what it will feel like around his neck.
Mind is surprisingly easy to guide, Heart had expected him to struggle more. At the very least, cling harder. Not that he’s complaining.
Mind’s hands finally reach Heart’s neck. Heart guides them into place, parting the fingers to press into all the right spots. He gasps from the shock of the cold against his warm and vulnerable skin. Heart leans his head back, almost arching into Mind’s hands, before he begins to press down.
It feels different. There is no soft flesh pressing against him. Just cold, hard metal. It hurts. It’s Mind. Heart savours every second, growing more lightheaded all the while.
Mind shifts, groaning as he does. And then he goes rigid. His hands tighten, squeezing so hard Heart feels like he’s going to burst. Heart whines, though the sound is choppy and strange from having to fight against Mind’s hands.
Mind lets go, throwing himself back as though he had been burned.
“[Heart?]”
Heart doesn’t respond. Can’t respond. His body is entirely limp, his head is swimming. He can still feel the ghost of Mind’s hands around him.
When Heart comes to, there is something cold against his neck. For a second he believes it to be Mind’s hands, yet again. But this is clearly different, there are no fingers splayed and pressing into his arteries and windpipe.
It’s a cold pack.
Heart whimpers, unsure of why he feels the need to. A weight shifts beside him; Mind, sitting on the bed beside him. It’s only now he realises he’s been propped up with pillows, more pillows than Mind has ever had in his room.
“[How do you feel?]”
Heart tries to form some sort of coherent sentence, really, but the only sound he can produce is an incomprehensible whine. Mind sighs, the sound glitchy and distorted from his modulator.
“[I’ve put a cold pack around your neck, given… It looked bad, Heart. Try not to move much and it should stay where it is. If you want to lay down, ask– or get my attention and gesture, I suppose. I also got you a glass of water, for your throat. You should drink.]” Mind’s weight on the mattress lessens for a moment as he leans over to get the water, before he shifts to sit closer to Heart, guiding the glass up to his lips. Heart can’t help but sip at it, even as the effort of swallowing makes his throat ache.
When Mind seems satisfied, he places the glass to the side before curling up and leaning against the pillows currently keeping Heart upright.
“[We’re going to need to talk about what happened, at some point. I need you to understand that.]”
Heart attempts to nod, though he still feels floaty and the movement comes out stuttering. Mind catches the cold pack as it falls from where it was wedged between Heart and the pillows. Mind carefully places it back around Heart, avoiding touching Heart’s neck with his bare hands for even a split second.
Heart doesn’t have the energy for anything, really. Not right now. Maybe he’ll fight over this when Mind decides it’s time to talk about it, maybe he’ll wish to feel Mind’s fingers clamped around his neck once more; for now, he just wants to rest.
“(... Mind?)”
“[Yeah?]” Mind almost seems shocked Heart is able to speak.
“(Can… c’n you lemme down?)” Heart slurs his words, any effort to not do so would be too much for him right now. It’s fine. Mind understands.
Mind undoes his work in propping up Heart with ease, leaving Heart to rest comfortably horizontally while Mind yet again places the cold pack on his neck, before taking the miscellaneous pillows and placing them around the bed in an almost nest-like formation.
It isn’t ideal, laying on his back with two pairs of wings behind him, but it’s fine, he’ll manage. At least his wings are healed, not plucked, nor actively bleeding.
Once Mind is satisfied with his work, he lies beside Heart, though he keeps himself slightly propped up against the pillows.
As much as Heart wants to rest, he can’t stop his thoughts from racing. Half-formed ideas of mechanical hands, holy hands, the water, a preacher, a blasphemer, the garden, weeds, infection, sight without Seeing, Seeing without sight–
“(Apollo?)”
Mind hums in acknowledgement.
“(Talk to me?)” Heart needs a distraction, anything to listen to outside of the torrent of ceaseless, meaningless thoughts inside his head.
“[What about?]”
“(Anything?)” Heart says it like a plea, like there’s a chance Mind would say no.
“[Alright then. Hm… I was going to start reading before I noticed you were waking up, I could read to you, if you wish.]”
Heart hums, the energy for words leaving him. He feels Mind move, before returning. Heart hears pages flip as Mind opens the book.
“[This is ‘The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’. Chapter One: The Story of the Door…]” Mind’s words wash over Heart as he begins reading. His deep voice is soothing, and the occasional pops of his modulator drag Heart away from his thoughts whenever he grows too distant.
A few chapters in, and Heart is asleep. Mind places the book on the bed as he leans over to check on Heart. He removes the cold pack, examining the state of Heart’s neck. Deep purple handprints surround his neck, like a noose. Mind has to avert his eyes to avoid gagging. He then has to avert his eyes again as they land on the door– as much as he wants to tear Soul apart, he can’t. He has to stay by Heart’s side, always.
Mind gently places the cold pack back against Heart’s neck, before picking up his book. He settles against the pillows as he resumes reading from where he left off.
It’s going to be a long night, but it’s worth it. For Heart, it’s always worth it.