A/N: ffffffff - like I said. So many heartbreaking pictures. I wrote this at like 2 am last night after I found this picture. I don’t know why things always end up in Saix’s perspective, but they do. There may be a bit too much emotion, but it’s supposed to be set very, very soon after they lost their hearts and if memories are the key to “feeling” things, I think Axel’s only slightly overdone? Maybe?
“Isa…” The word lay trembling in the stifling atmosphere of the room as the soft clicking of boots on metal echoed closer.
Saix looked up involuntarily from where he was slumped on the edge of his bed, forgetting that he was currently swathed in darkness. He didn’t need his sight to recognize that voice, though. How had Lea known? How had he managed to find him already? He had meant to be scarce for a while…
“Ax…el?” The name fell awkwardly from stiff lips. Neither mind nor mouth was accustomed to that name yet, but it felt like less of an admission of weakness than the other. He made a groping motion to get up from the bed, but gentle hands were pushing him back down while that same voice murmured in his ear.
“Shhh. Stay still. Let me look at it.” Thin fingers were already running along the edges of sloppily tied bandages Saix had thrown on earlier in an attempt to stop the bleeding. A few muttered curses reached his ears as the fabric was painstakingly unwound from around his forehead.
He kept his eyes shut. It was comforting to stay in the dark. The darkness was safe. Familiar. A place to hide now. To shut out this reality that had somehow become his, somehow become theirs.
The sharp intake of breath and the chill as his wound met the open air told him the bandages had been fully removed. It was a long moment of silence before something cool and soothing was spread ever so gently between his eyes. “It will help with the scarring,” The voice murmured, the faintest hint of a tremble in the lower tones.
He should say something. Anything. A thank you? Something. But he remained locked in silence as the bandages were rewrapped, motionless until the end where he could have sworn he imagined lips brushing against his brow for the briefest instant.
“Here.” The voice was once again whispering soothingly in his ear as warm hands grasped his icy ones, pulling him to his feet. “I can help you get around for a while. Until we can get the bandages off. Alright?”
Once again he could not utter a sound, but let his fingers tangle with those of the smaller hand that found his. Almost of its own accord, his other hand dropped to slip around the slender waist next to him, reflexively crushing the slim form to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him that they could have been dancing and it seemed fitting.
For after all, they were locked in a waltz of death now. Ever dying, ever living. Always teetering on the edge of existence, forever toeing the border of limbo. Eternally dancing in a great well of nothingness. This was their dance of doom.
And dance it they would, Saix swore to himself. One way or another he would see them to the end of all this. If there was ever an end to nothingness, to everlasting darkness, they would both be there. They would survive.
It was a silent promise between the two of them in that moment. An oath born of the blood of revenge and tears wrung from a heart lost to shadow.