Angeal passes his fingers over Genesis’ skin; even in the morning light, it’s unmistakably grey now. Grey and chalky, as if it will crumble when he presses just a fraction harder, disintegrate under his touch even though his desperate fingers are trying to ensure the opposite.
He bends to kiss it, as gently as he can; and feels powder on his lips.
“I’m irredeemable,” Genesis murmurs, his voice soft and low with exhaustion, sending vibrations through Angeal’s chest.
“We’ll find a cure,” Angeal protests. And he keeps his fingers tight against Genesis, vowing that determination alone will keep him whole.
Comments
Archived comments are included below. My replies have not been archived.
n° 1 (archived from archiveofourown.org)
2022-11-14Noooooo oh this hurts! Thank you…now where are my tissues….
n° 2 (archived from archiveofourown.org)
2022-11-15Ohh this is really powerful. I’m not familiar with the canon, but his made my heart ache. Beautiful language.