[ Poe isn't sure what answer he expected. He's not even sure what answer he wanted. All he knew was the intimate instinct to fight when backed into a corner. He's lived his life in that corner for years; the fight is second nature, with the result a gamble every time.
When John shoves him, he feels the chain of his necklace bounce against his skin underneath his shirt at the same time his back hits the cabinets. For a second he has the sense that his mother's ring is bearing down, that the chain will leave an imprint on his neck that won't go away for days.
He doesn't want John to go.
He has no idea how to say it.
His stomach is knotted for reasons that have nothing to do with arousal.
Poe reaches out, catches the hem of John's shirt in his fingers, pulls on it like a child trying to get someone's attention. He can't lose John, and it feels like if he doesn't say what needs to be said, he will. In some way, Poe will lose him. He can't do that.
Again, that acute awareness of his mother's ring.
He's used to losing people in war. He's even comfortable with it, as much as a person can ever be comfortable with that kind of trauma, that kind of grief. It's losing people in other ways that really scares him. ]
Don't go.
[ An unconscious echo of John's words that first night. It's small. Poe clears his throat, but he can't say the words again. He can't put more force behind them. They get stuck in his throat, grinding together around the lump there. He can only hope his eyes say what the rest of him is terrified to.
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Date: 2018-02-25 04:14 am (UTC)When John shoves him, he feels the chain of his necklace bounce against his skin underneath his shirt at the same time his back hits the cabinets. For a second he has the sense that his mother's ring is bearing down, that the chain will leave an imprint on his neck that won't go away for days.
He doesn't want John to go.
He has no idea how to say it.
His stomach is knotted for reasons that have nothing to do with arousal.
Poe reaches out, catches the hem of John's shirt in his fingers, pulls on it like a child trying to get someone's attention. He can't lose John, and it feels like if he doesn't say what needs to be said, he will. In some way, Poe will lose him. He can't do that.
Again, that acute awareness of his mother's ring.
He's used to losing people in war. He's even comfortable with it, as much as a person can ever be comfortable with that kind of trauma, that kind of grief. It's losing people in other ways that really scares him. ]
Don't go.
[ An unconscious echo of John's words that first night. It's small. Poe clears his throat, but he can't say the words again. He can't put more force behind them. They get stuck in his throat, grinding together around the lump there. He can only hope his eyes say what the rest of him is terrified to.
Don't go. Please don't go. ]