Chapter Text
You giggle as he kisses your neck again, grinning and running your fingers through his golden hair. He smells like cinnamon, tastes like sunshine. He pulls away, and you feel his long eyelashes tickle your cheek as he leans forward and whispers “love you,” into your ear. You gently press your hands on his shoulders and lean back a bit so you could look at his face.
A wave of fondness washes over you as your gaze glides over a round face (one he’s embarrassed about) a spray of freckles across the bridge of his nose, eager wide eyes. His shades push up his bangs, making them stick up a bit. He’s so silly and cute and perfect. No matter the curses he easily spits, his awkward ways of trying to express affection, his stupid insistence on his so-called coolness when he’s really just a huge dork- he’s still yours.
“Are you an angel?” You remember asking him that the day you met, half joking. He had stood at the lookout and the sunlight had peeked out from behind the clouds, catching in his golden hair and giving him an almost ethereal look. He held a camera pointed towards the snowy cap of Mr. Rainier.
He had turned to face you, and you saw his dark eyebrows furrow questioningly. “I have to admit, I never heard that line in real life.”
You had covered yourself with the standard “‘cause when you fell from heaven, you must have landed on your face!” and laughed a little too loud afterwards. He had actually cracked a smile, and you still don’t know if it was because he found you funny, or your stupid eagerness amusing.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says and your eyes are still fixed on his face. He’s still smiling, a real smile that softens his eyes and sends another thrill through you, because you can’t believe you’re lucky enough to know him, to be with him.
“Why would I do that when you’re right here?”
“Point taken,” is his reply. He presses his forehead against yours. He’s a boy of heat, a boy of fire. He can be a scorching blaze or a flickering candlelight. Fire can’t be contained, it can always leap out of its confines.
That’s why you don’t confine him.
“You’ll always be here, right?”
“Don’t leave me!” You didn’t mean to scream, but you couldn’t stop the cry of desperation from escaping your mouth. He couldn’t abandon you, he already had too much of you!
“I’m not worth it,” he’d replied, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just gonna make things hard for you.”
You couldn’t see that happening, how could he make things hard when you’ve been the happiest you’ve ever been because of him! You tell him that and he makes soft, choked noise. It’s uncomfortably close to a sob and it clenches at your heart. “I need you,” you insisted softly, a tremble in your voice. He was already on the verge of disappearing forever, one foot was already out the door. You had to stop him, you had to keep his life.
“I’m so selfish,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. What if he wanted to go? You couldn’t clip his wings if he wanted to fly away.
He hears you, and suddenly the door’s closed and he’s by your side. “That not true,” he said, soft and insistent. “I’m the one who’s selfish. I... just don’t want to hurt you when I go.”
He was going to go. He was planning on leaving.
The thought settled in your stomach and made your heart thud painfully.
But you smiled and said that you didn't care, as long as you spend what time you can have with him.
"As long as I can," he murmurs.
You don't want him to leave.
But you're scared of holding too tight and having him slip between your fingers. He rolls off of you and flops on his back on your bed, sighing softly. "I don't want to leave, either."
You brush your fingers across his jaw and close your eyes. You hate the thought of him belonging to everyone, and thinking that makes you feel really, really, guilty. You shouldn't be so possessive, you shouldn't act like you're entitled to him. You know that’s why he’s left so many others, they grasped onto him tightly, crushed his wings, didn’t let him breathe. You can’t imagine yourself doing it yourself, you couldn’t.
That’s a lie.
You tell yourself that every time.
You don’t him to leave you.
He can’t leave you.
You can’t see him with anyone except you, if you did you might-
nonononononono you cant keep thinking like this,stop it john, stop-
You’re head buzzes and electricity pulses through you. Dave is suddenly very alert, and leans back, eyebrows raising in that slight quirk that means he’s concerned, maybe startled. “...You okay, man?”
His voice soothes you, and you let out a shuddering exhale that shakes your shoulders. “Y-yeah. I was just. Thinking.”
“You think?” he asks, feigning surprise, and you shove him off the sofa. He gasps dramatically and pretends to go unconscious. You snicker and nudge his side with your foot. His response is to pull you down and replace your spot on the couch. It happens so fast you don’t realize it until you’re lying flat on your back on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
He’s turning on the TV, eyes flickering across the screen as some dumb music video plays. You’re stricken again with the thought that you’re so lucky to have him and you love him so much and the thought of him with anyone else makes you want to scream-
No, no, no. This isn’t healthy, you can’t think this way, you’ll scare him away and what will happen then? You’d probably die.
You’d go crazy if you couldn’t be near him anymore.
You’re going crazy anyways.
------
Your name is Dave Strider and you don’t know what you are, you just know that you always feel the need to move. You hate being in one place for too long, you hate feeling like you’re stuck in one place. You spent your whole life wishing for wings, wishing for a way to escape your shitty apartment, your overbearing brother, the stifling heat of Texas.
Yeah, you have some commitment issues.
However, for the first time, you’ve found someone you wouldn’t find being with forever.
His name is John Egbert, and he has eyes the color of the sky you love. He’s stupid and silly and makes dumb jokes and is a total homebody. He spends his time working part-time at some movie theater that he ends up hanging around in hours long after his shift has ended. He practices magic and pulls quarters out of your ear and everytime he does, his eyes widen with excitement at the fact he pulled it off.
You never knew you’d fall for someone like that, especially since all you want to do is see every inch of the world you can see, snap pictures of pretty scenes to keep forever. You keep parts of your world in a photo album, and maybe if this earth was made up of nothing but those scenes it wouldn’t be such a shitty place.
You’ve taken to photographing him.
John staring out the window, John nodding off while watching a movie, John throwing a shoe at you telling you to turn the camera off already. (You don’t, and he just rolls his eyes and tells you to go take a picture of a bowl of fruit or something.) You slide the pictures into your album and realize he’s the only person you take pictures of.
You wouldn’t mind staying with him for the rest of your life, and that’s what worries you. It’s probably just a passing feeling, he deserves to be with a nice girl and raise a family. He should be a father. You’re sure he’d be a kickass dad.
You can only see a domestic white picket fence house, a pretty stay-at-home wife, 2.5 kids and a dog in his future, and you don’t belong in that future, you don’t. He deserves so much better than you, it’s ridiculous how much he insists he wants to be with you.
You ignore the fact that you want to as well.
You don’t want to leave and hurt him, but you think you should for his sake.
You’re too much of a coward to let him go, because you’ve never needed someone like you need him.
“I want to go with you,” John says one day when you’re watching Kill Bill. You sit up, looking at him.
“No, you don’t,” you say in impulse, and he looks hurt.
“Do you not want me to?”
You have to tell him, if you don’t you’ll never bring yourself to.
“I-I. I can’t do this,” you say, and your heart breaks at the look on him face.
“Wh-what?”
“You... you deserve better,” you stammer out, and you’re running upstairs and grabbing the few things you have.
“You can’t do this,” he’s insisting as you sling your bag over your shoulder. You can’t look at him, you can’t look him in the eyes. One look at the sky in his face and you won’t be able to leave.
“I don’t...” you choke. “I want to,” you amend, and you hear him breathe in sharply. You can’t turn back, you can’t lose your resolve, you have to go-
You say “bye” at the same time as he says “i love you”.