cocanuts: (Default)
Shugo ([personal profile] cocanuts) wrote2013-07-27 11:06 pm

(no subject)

19- Whispered

At night he likes to whisper things when Marco is asleep. Soothing words and somber confessions to cryptic secrets and heartfelt self-condemnations were whispered into the night for Marco. To Jean, it’s all the things he wants to admit to Marco but hasn’t had the heart to face his partner and tell him so. He has whispered these things every night since Marco was recovering in the hospital. The whispers had been a source of hope for Jean at the time of Marco’s recovery. An as he sat next to Marco’s death bed, he would be watching Marco closely, whispering for him to wake up and fearing every breath taken would be Marco’s last.

Tonight is no different. Sure, Marco has made a long progress towards recovery and he was no longer committed to the hospital but Marco was still rehabilitating. His missing arm was the biggest mark of progression and probably the most painful recovery for Jean to watch. It was painful for so many reasons, the way Marco tried to cover up the painful tremors of ghost veins or the way Marco shy’d away from help. Even looking at the healing stitches, a vivid reminder of just how gone Marco’s arm was- was painful for Jean. It was his fault, Marco shouldn’t have had to gone through, no, what he’s still going through.

He blames himself in these nightly confessions as he looks upon Marco sleeping next to him and tonight is no different as he reaches out to softly brush his hand against Marco’s face. Being careful not to wake him, he begins his whispered words. Jean can’t recall exactly what he says through misty eyes and the whirlpool of emotions attacking his conscious. Finally, he breaks into his mantra of apologizing and lulls himself to sleep.

“I’m so sorry,” a trickle of tears fall down the side of his face and he tries blinking them back. Tries, because he soon feels a heavy shift in the bed and finds a hand caressing the side of his own face. The last thing he remembers before drifting to sleep is a soft voice whispering back to him;

“It’s okay.”

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