(no subject)

[annapeace.livejournal.com]

Title: Remember to Breathe
Rating: G
Involving: Markus Rogan, Aaron Piersol
Summary: Letting go to get to where you want to be. Written for Fly.

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Your eyes open to darkness. Quickly, you look around, but it is futile. You see nothing, you hear nothing, you feel nothing. For a moment, you consider panicking, but the blackness washes over you, numbing you, and the need to know what has happened to you slips away.

It is almost a state of bliss. You float aimlessly in the dark; you move and go nowhere. Part of you wants to stay this way forever. Another part of you, however…

It tugs at your feet gently, a steady undercurrent, but you resist. You don’t want to jump in, you’re afraid of where you might be swept to. The darkness, while empty, offers safety. Nothing will change, nothing will happen. But in your mind’s eye, you see someone, and he is not dark. He has skin like pale sunlight and a head full of toffee locks, he is beautiful and he is at the place where the current washes out. Waiting for you.

Still, still, you fear the undertow. It is treacherous and filled with whirlpools that would pull you in at any given moment.

You are content in the darkness. It is not the same as being happy, but something close to it, maybe close enough to sustain you for the rest of you life.

Then you feel someone take your hand and you know it’s him. You feel his warm lips brush over your knuckles; you feel the soft kiss he blows across your fingers, and suddenly, you know: you aren’t satisfied being content.

The current moves faster now, leaching away at you, and you shiver. You want it, you want to be happy so much, but you just wish you could see how to get there.

And your name falls from his lips like a drop of water. “Aaron.” It splashes in the distance, blooming into a pinprick of light, and you focus your entire being on it.

You know you aren’t quite there yet, but you know you’ll be there soon, and that’s enough to make you smile. Then you are sinking, letting the rushing riptide bear you away, and you are still so scared, but you don’t care. You can’t care. All you can do is keep going, stop fighting, and wait to arrive at the end.

This time when you open your eyes, you are met with dim lighting. You blink once, twice, and your eyes focus enough to see him still holding your hand. He is sleeping, his snores a familiar rumble drowning out the faint beeping in the background.

And watching him doze, his name slips from your lips in a rusty sigh. “Markus.”

He doesn’t wake, but his fingers tighten around yours, and it is like watching the sun rise over the ocean. It is knowing you can breathe again.