Closed RP What Big Teeth You Have

This RP is currently closed.

He answered all of her questions, in order. She was surprised by the environmental zoology choice, but at the same time, it made sense. It seemed like a very Todd thing, for the predator to want to study other predators and prey. It made sense that Todd, the same man who had spent a week up in a nature reserve and had spent most of his adult life on the road, would be interested in that.

His reason for being a vigilante was a little loose, as though there was a missing piece there, but then he got to Arlo. That made Todd sad and made him sigh softly. And for good reason, she realized quickly. Of course, he would be sad having to relive that. She felt a twinge in her heart for him, Empathy swelling in her chest. But alongside it was a small chill. Once again, even that wasn’t the whole truth. It was a half-truth that revolved around the hole in the middle of everything. She flickered again.

Then, his name. Which he didn’t give her. But she could understand why, even though it panged her heart in a much different way than before. This pang was pain, but not for herself. It was pain for him, for what it must have been like before foster care if he wouldn’t even tell her. She smiled softly when he said if she would “still have him”.

You caught me in the tide, and I caught you
Sheltered by the night.

She hadn’t realized how much time had passed since he spoke until that moment. She let go of his hands, but only so she could stand. She took the single step it took to close the gap between them and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her. She was silent for another moment before she pressed a soft and loving kiss to his curls, burying her face in them.

“You did what you had to. I’m so sorry that you had to do that. But you had to, if he didn’t give you a choice. I’m… I’m glad you’re here if that counts for anything.”

She held him like that, not letting go. There was something she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to know it yet. But the swelling in her chest was something that she couldn’t ignore as she held the man who had just told her he had to kill his friend. The man who wouldn’t give her his birth name because his father was a monster. The man who had just offered himself to her. Tears fell from her eyes to his curls, as she realized how anchored to her lighthouse she now was. She couldn’t unmoor herself if she tried.

Samantha Caireach Walsh was in love with Todd Oscar Fowler.

So with her face buried into his curls, in a soft enough whisper that he could ignore it if he chose to, even though they would both know he would hear it, she whispered to him in a voice so full of emotions that she was surprised she could say it so softly. She pressed her lips into his hair and whispered, “Of course I’ll still have you. Of course I will. I love you too much to not. I love you too much to walk away from you, cheekbones.”​
 
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He pressed his forehead into her, when she embraced him, feeling the sweep of numbness in his body. He’d trained himself to feel numb when talking about Arlo. Like her, he hadn’t noticed the silence, just the feelings. Just trying to put them back where they belonged. He might’ve succeeded, too, if he hadn’t felt her press her face into his hair, and kiss his head.

It wasn’t like Ethan. There was no violence in his grief, no fear, this time. No violent trembling. Just tears. Tears for the past, what he’d lost. Who he’d taken. Misery, just a little, because there were days that he wasn’t sure he was glad he had lived, when he knew the world would be better if Arlo had killed him.

Tears for the future, surrender before it was time. Tears because he was glad he was here, too, in her arms. But tears that knew this couldn’t last. How many more moments like this, before one of them devoured the other?

Red in tooth and red in claw,
You caught me in the tide and I caught you.​

Sammy Walsh loved him. Samantha loved him too much to walk away.

But would she run, if she knew?

Which was worse? Her love for him outlasting his, the idea that she would give herself to him, submit herself to his teeth despite everything, refuse to run, refuse to lose him? Or that, like Arlo, she was only in love with the parts of him that didn’t bite; but she’d run towards him in a blaze of fury that made Arlo’s look dim?

Or that she, like the monster that his father was, would only fall in love with his violence if she ever really saw it?

And, the worst question of all: Could he love her, in return? He could desire her. Want her with every ounce of his mind and instinct, a bridge between the two halves of his soul. Want her with every ounce of hunger that he’d ever experienced, bury himself in her scent, wrap his arms around her and hold her warmth to him to try to fill the cold. He’d give her his teeth, if she asked for them, if she offered herself to them.

That wasn’t love. Desire – wasn’t love. Love would be submitting to her flame when she turned it on him, because she was strong and full of rage. Because even when she went cold she still had that spark. Even in her softness she could burn him. Even in her brightest flame of love he could be reduced to ash. And he would let her, to save her from the worst monster he knew. Maybe that was love.

Maybe that was desire, too.

And he grieved, as quietly and as long as he she would let him. And he held her to tell her he would never let go, but he didn't speak. He couldn't say the words she'd said to him. He couldn't lie to her.
 

She didn’t get the word back. She knew he wouldn’t, not yet. She had wanted him to know, but she hadn’t expected it back. She would let him tear her apart over and over and over again, let him stab her through the heart as much as it took for him to understand she meant it. She thought back to his words on the rooftop, and she realized then she would let him eat her alive if he wanted that. Every bit of her fire, every bit of her warmth, it was his now. Every inch of her body, head to toe, every inch of her beating heart, and every bit of her soul that she had left, he could consume all of it.

She didn’t get the word back. She might never get the word back. As long as he wanted her, as long as he stayed with her, she could handle that. She could be happy with just that. As long as he didn’t push her away, as long as he was always there, as long as she had his hands and his lips and smile, she could live with the little pieces of his heart he was willing to give to her.

She didn’t get the word back.

I’m sorry this is always how it goes
The wind blows loudest when you’ve got your eyes closed.

What she did get was tears. His tears, not just her own. She wasn’t sure which of her words had done it, only that he was clinging to her. His touch started soft, and she returned it, resting her head on top of his, softly breathing out on his curls, one of her hands buried in them, the other wrapped around his shoulders. She held him with the same gentleness even when his touch stopped being gentle, even when she could feel his hug becoming crushing. Even when she started having trouble breathing.

She wasn’t going to tell him to stop. She wasn’t going to tell him to stop. She wasn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him to stop even if she wanted to. Not when she wanted it so damn much. She wanted what he was willing to give to her, even if it crushed her, even if it broke her ribs and shattered her spine, even if she broke in two. She would never ask him to stop, even if it destroyed her.

But I never changed a single color that I breathe
So you could have tried to take a closer look at me.

She gasped in a small breath as she realized she had started crying herself. She couldn’t remember when the tears had started. Only that his hair was damp with them now. She felt something in her chest jerk and she realized how not okay she was with that. She could live with just his desire and his want, but she knew her heart was going to always want more. She would always be desperate for more. That was why she was crying. Resignation. Resignation to the fact that he might never give her all of him, not like she was going to give him all of her. Resignation to a lifetime of wanting more and never having enough.

She smiled and nodded against his curls. That was going to be horrible. She hoped she was wrong. She prayed that she was wrong to a god she didn’t believe in. She hoped, she prayed, and she cried. And then she gasped in as much air as she could and her touch went from gentle to tight, almost as tight as his own hug.

Sam could live with it because she couldn’t live without him.

She whispered into his hair in that same softness that held too much emotion and barely any volume, “I’m sorry if that’s too much too soon. You don’t have to say anything. Just don’t let me go.”​
 
I am tired of punching in the wind,
I am tired of letting it all in,​

Take her.

The tug at his instincts came unbidden with the sound of her voice. In the tightness of her embrace. In the permission for silence

He was still buried in her, in her arms, bare and free from her suit. Soft skin pressed against his sweater, pressed to the back of his head. She was so small, so soft. A flex of his arms, and he could break her ribs. She wasn’t resisting him at all. If he moved his hand, he could snap her neck. It would be painless; she wouldn’t even know he’d killed her, no time for realization, not the kind a knife would give her.

But why bother? She was entirely at his mercy. He could take her pain before she died; if he tilted his head, his teeth would be in her throat. He could pick gently, start with the skin; and if she didn’t engulf him, he could enjoy her from there at his leisure. If she really loved him, he could pick her apart; he could have her piece by piece and call that hunger love.

His head did tilt up, and he took a shaky breath of her, full of her, of cinnamon and apples and vanilla and jasmine, infused with all the scents on her breath and all the spices from cooking. Gently, carefully, like stalking a rabbit, he brought his lips to her neck. He caressed it, the softest stroke against her skin; then kissed it, firm and eager, knowing she would open herself to that; and then slowly lent his hunger to it until all he could do was taste her.

And I should eat you up and spit you right out.
I should not care, but I don't know how.​

The lyrics caught his ear, and he realized how much he could taste her. Not her blood, but her – her scent, her skin, as sweet as he’d imagined, as soft and vulnerable as she’d ever let herself be. Her body was so tight under his hands, and there was no resistance, because it was a mockery of that word she’d said to him, a mockery of love. His love was bait for teeth, and she was caught in a beartrap.

He took the force he’d put into embracing her, adjusted his arms, and then pulled her away. She needed to be away. He hated what he already knew he’d see in her face, hated even more that she’d see his fear and starvation in sudden contrast on his own features before he closed his eyes and took a slow breath, and swallowed hard.

“I’m hurting you.” His voice was shaking, and his fingers relaxed. If she tried to press back in, he would hold her there, where she was, away. Away for her safety, away for her good. If he thought she wouldn’t dash after him, he would have let go and run.

But Sam wouldn’t walk away, and she wouldn’t let him, either. He knew it would destroy her to do that. So he stayed, and he stayed her body from reaching his again as he begged his own instincts to behave, as he reset his camouflage.

“I’m sorry. I have to. If I hurt you – I’m sorry.”

Please forgive me.
 

So I take off my face,
Because it reminds me how it all went wrong

His lips on her neck surprised her, and she audibly gasped at the feeling. When they parted against her skin, she shook. In her emotionally vulnerable moment, the moment she had asked him not to let her go, his lips on her skin meant everything. She tilted her head to the opposite side, taking in a shaky breath with the scent of coffee and mint, and she let herself relax into his arms. The fire inside her began to burn with the new fuel that was offered to it, and the air around them, for just a moment, grew hot.

Then his lips were gone, and so was his body. All she had were his hands, holding her away from him. The confusion came first. He had just had his lips on her, had been embracing her and she thought– she thought that he was going to, well. She couldn’t even bring herself to think it now, because he had pushed her away.

That was when the hurt set in and her eyes conveyed all of it. They went wide and her brows drew together, her lips parting and trembling. He’d pushed her away. He’d pushed her away. She had asked him not to let her go, and he’d pushed her away. Something inside her cracked She could hear it, like a vase falling to the ground and shattering, the sound of something cracking. The space behind her ribs ached, as though Todd had broken them after all.

For a moment, the emotional pain was all that registered in her brain as fresh tears fell down her face. The ache, the crack, the moment of unbearable heartache. It made her shake with its intensity, and she looked away from his face for a moment, unable to look directly at him, lest she break down entirely. She took a step back before she saw his face… and stopped.

Fear. A deep fear that filled his eyes, almost as much as its companion. Its companion was hunger, so much more than she was used to seeing. Borderline starvation, swirling in his eyes with that fear, and she was back to confusion, until he spoke.

Something in his voice, in his movements, in the look in his eyes, and she knew he didn’t mean emotionally. He was apologizing for the pain, yes. But he was trying to prevent a worse pain, it seemed. Her mind searched the last few moments, the moments after she had asked him not to let her go. She ran them over in her head. His lips on her neck, his hands pushing her away, his words. His lips on her neck, his hands pushing her away. His lips on her neck.

His lips that had parted on her neck, that had kissed her so eagerly. That was the only moment it could have been. What was he worried he was going to do? How would his lips on her hurt her? If anything, it had made her feel, for just a moment, like he was going to give her… something. And that was gone now, replaced by confusion, concern, and deep heartbreak.

His lips on her neck.

His lips on her neck, parting.

Her brain whirled as it tried to come to a specific conclusion. But that wouldn’t be right. That couldn’t be right. She didn’t know what that meant. What could that have meant?

Because all she could think is that after lips, came teeth.

All she could think was predators have teeth.

She immediately stopped the thoughts. She didn’t like them. She didn’t want to think of them. Whatever her mind was trying to jump to was wrong. She wouldn’t go down that line of thought, because Todd– because Todd–

I guess I could swim for days in the salty sea
But in the end, the waves will discolor me.

Todd was a cannibal.

All at once her brain stopped moving and she froze. She quickly loosened her body back up and tried to remove the shock from her eyes. Her mind started moving again at a mile a minute.

Enhanced scent for tracking humans. Enhanced hearing for the same. He could see in the dark, better for hunting at night. He was stronger and faster so his prey couldn’t escape. Healing to keep chasing even if his prey fought back. The shapeshifting… to people he had eaten before? He said he couldn’t do anyone or do it so much on command. Only to people he ate made sense if it was a way to lure more humans out to be hunted. To be killed.

To be eaten.

Did he want to eat her?

The moment it crossed her mind, she knew it wasn’t quite right. If he wanted to eat her, he would have already done so. He didn’t want to eat her, not really, even if his brain was trying to tell him he did. He could have killed her then. He could have killed her on the rooftop that first night when they had met in masks. He had protected her in fights, had held her close in moments alone, had kissed her with the same desire that she had for him. She had seen affection, real affection, in his eyes before.

Todd was trying not to kill her. He didn’t want to kill her.

He also didn’t want to make her any promises. He clearly wasn’t sure he could keep them, because he was terrified he was going to kill her. She moved her hands to his, where they held her, and she squeezed them as she… realized she hadn’t even thought of how she felt about this.

She wasn’t scared. That was the first thing she knew for sure. Even with her bodysuit missing, Sam wasn’t scared of Todd. She firmly believed he wouldn’t hurt her.

She wasn’t disgusted. She was surprised a bit by that one, but it did nothing to lessen what she felt or wanted. But then, Sam considered herself a monster already. Maybe there was no one better for her than another monster.

She wasn’t horrified. She was concerned. Knowing Todd, hearing him talk about everything he had today, everything he had ever said to her, it was likely that he had never eaten an innocent person before in his life. She realized then, that probably wasn’t entirely right. He probably had never eaten an innocent person with the exception of Arlo. But that had been self-defense. He must have come across Todd eating.

It was amazing how everything clicked into place then. It was a Todd-shaped puzzle piece that fit square into the hole at the center of all of his stories and half-truths. She felt it click into place inside her as the truth.

So Todd was a cannibal and struggling not to eat her.

But I leave in my heart,
Because I don’t want to stay in the dark.

She could… work with that. Live with that. Still love that.

God, she definitely still loved him.

She squeezed his hands and gently pried them away and said, in the softest voice and with the saddest smile, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. It’s okay, I- I hurt myself. Not you. It’s not your fault that I love too quickly.”

She wouldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell him. He might bolt if she did, or worst case scenario, he might kill her. And she wouldn’t fight him if he did that. She could never fight him, even now that she knew. She could kill him, absolutely. She had no doubt that she could boil him alive, exhaust him in the heat, smash his skull in, snap his neck, or any other form of killing him. Sam was strong enough and capable enough.

The idea of that almost made her sick.

So she gave his hands another squeeze, allowing the now fading remains of pain and heartbreak to shine in her eyes to cover the way her mind was working. Then she moved back and sat down in her chair, scooting back in. Then, she smiled and said, “Can I still ask you questions? Will you stay? Please?”​
 
He saw it, in her face. The pain and betrayal was like nothing he’d ever inflicted with teeth alone. The only time he could even compare to that look was that night when Arlo had found him elbow-deep in blood, but even that wasn’t right. Because there was no anger in her eyes, just confusion. The betrayal didn’t carry horror, it was full of guilt. She’d gasped under his touch. Did she think he’d pulled away because of that, because of how eager she was? Did she think she was scaring him? Drowning him in her emotions, in her touch? He hoped not.

I need nothing to travel the sea
But there's something eating at me​

That didn’t sit right, anyway. Sammy knew that she didn’t scare him – didn’t she? She’d gotten hot under his touch. He remembered that much through the haze of the sudden want that had taken him. Maybe he’d overreacted. Maybe she would’ve burned him, wouldn’t have just let herself die. He would’ve lost her, but she would’ve lived, and that was more important to him.

Except she had no idea. She couldn’t know what his intentions had been, even if she pulled out of his grasp and sat back down. She sat back down, beside him. She didn’t burn him. Didn’t panic, just looked so deeply betrayed his teeth might’ve been a mercy. He’d broken her heart. But her heart was still beating. And so was his. That was what mattered. She couldn’t have realized, and he relaxed almost against his will when he realized that.

Swallowed by a vicious, vengeful sea,
Darker days are raining over me,
In the deepest depths I lost myself
I see myself through someone else​

“No, Sammy, I’m – I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I just – it’s all going so fast I get surprised when it’s just…us. I’ve never done this before. It’s all so different from anything else I’ve experienced. I just need to figure some – other things out. Before we go that far. Thank you for understanding.”

Because there was no doubt in his mind she’d understand, even if he wasn’t telling her everything. He’d never said out loud he’d never loved– no. Desired. He couldn’t confuse what he felt about her for love, even if it almost felt like it could be. Like the huntsong, it was one thing that seemed like another. Like the huntsong, it was violence full of promises of warmth, of fullness, that he knew wouldn’t come from giving in to it. He wouldn’t let his hunger have her any more than the hunt could have him. Not anymore.

And she couldn’t have his violence. Even if she didn’t destroy him, even if she could accept him and cow the animal into keeping its teeth from her at the same time, there was a deeper fear that she would love that monster more than she loved him. A person’s mind could break, trying to love a monster like that. He wouldn’t let that break her. He wouldn’t let Sammy become his father. If he had to die to her fire to prevent that, then so be it. He’d die to save her from his teeth either way, if it meant she stayed Sammy.

The strange silence surrounding me
Grows closer, feels colder​

The distance– that was strange. She had walked away from him, for once. She had left him for once. He’d pushed her away, but she’d listened. She let him push her away, despite all the pain in her eyes. And there was nothing he could say that would encompass the gratitude he felt for that, even if the gratitude meant the chill in his bones became clearer as she pulled her warmth away.

“But I’ll stay. Of course I’ll stay, Sammy.” Hesitantly, to give her time to flinch away, he reached out to touch her arm again. This isn’t your fault. I’m so sorry. “Ask me anything. I’ll be here.”

But I'm ready to suffer the sea,
Black water take over.​
 

Sam smiled with a bit of relief. It shone bright in her eyes as she let a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. She reached her hand up and very carefully took his hand in hers if he let her, interlacing their fingers. She wanted to convey that she understood now, she knew, god she knew, and it was okay. She wasn’t afraid of him. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let him know that she knew. So instead she just smiled sadly and squeezed his hand, the best approximation of forgiveness she could summon.

Undo this storm
Undo this storm
Undo this storm and wait.

“You don’t need to apologize to me. I understand. I do. I’ll try to… I’ll try.” She didn’t know what else to say. What exactly would she try? Anything, really. But she didn’t know how to convey that without just telling him. She would try anything to make this work, to keep him, anything at all. She didn’t care, as fucked up as that probably was. She should definitely care. She didn’t. She couldn’t even bring herself to be upset with herself. She felt how she felt, and she knew what she knew. That was all there was to it.

God, the look on his face. That look of regret and simultaneous relief and gratitude. His eyes were so full of it. She wished she could go back, that she could have reacted better to the initial pushback he gave. Now that she knew, she couldn’t imagine reacting to him with anything but understanding for his struggle. She allowed a smile to take over, one that, while full of concern, was genuine and real, and lit her eyes back up. God, now there were more questions. Questions that would help her figure out the last bits of the puzzle. She didn’t know where to start, exactly. Then she realized exactly what she should ask.

“How old are you, Todd? When’s your birthday? I just realized I don’t know.” That was an easy one to start with. She could go slow, she could ask easy things and then ramp back up into more complicated ones, more dangerous ones, and– “How many people have you killed?”

She winced a bit and then bit her bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth, a little grin showing her upper teeth. Very subtle. Great, easy question. Super great job, Samanatha. She sighed and looked back up at him. “Sorry, I uh. I’ll tell you first. My number is forty. It will be forty-six after I go to Philly.”

I’ll be the calm
I will be quiet
Stripped to the bone, I wait.

She felt the turmoil inside her finally calm down with that. The pain and the heartbreak eased out, replaced only with understanding, concern, and growing curiosity. She felt his heartbeat through his hand, fast but growing more steady. Growing less elevated and returning to the familiar strong but smooth beat that she was used to. That was good. That was a good sign. Todd relaxed was probably the best way to keep him, at least for right now. A small flush rose to her cheeks as she remembered other times his heart rate had risen, and he had been fine afterward. She looked away from his eyes, looking down at their joined hands.

“And, you can ask me things. This goes both ways, you can have as much as you want.” The words slipped out of her with an edge of severity. While she hadn’t meant it that way, in the eating her way, that was now where her mind went when she thought about how much of herself she would give to him.

All of her, apparently.

She’d prefer to avoid that as much as possible, though.​
 
Sammy tangled her hand in Todd’s, and the relief that flooded through him was indescribable. The fact that she’d touch him at all felt like a minor absolution, forgiveness for what he’d done to her, forgiveness for the pain. He held her hand in his, not too tightly, but firm enough to keep it there. To assure her he was here, that it wasn’t her fault, that he was hers so long as no harm came to her by his hand. That they could go back to normal. That he was sorry.

The relief was only compounded by a relatively normal question. “Twenty-six. Almost twenty-seven. Born December 20th, 1996. I kinda got overlooked a lot because of Christmas.”

In foster care, at least. He hadn’t exactly been vocal about wanting a birthday, and even with the checks, the family was usually short on money that time of year anyway, so he hadn’t bothered anyone. When he was on his own, he hadn’t done anything at all for either. Hadn’t seen a point to it.

It was Arlo who’d gone out of his way to make both good, the two they’d had together. What would’ve been three. Had almost been three. If Todd hadn’t gone and…

If I could face them, if I could make amends
With all my shadows
I'd bow my head and welcome them.​

Her next question was enough to stop him from spiraling, although his hand closed a little tighter around hers. He felt his own pulse, but he felt hers under the warm skin of her fingers, too. She’d asked, and she’d said forty like it was such a big number. But she also said it like she remembered them all, every last one. She didn’t have to do mental math to remember.

Todd did. He needed to take a second, and licked his lips nervously as his eyes came a little unfocused. One a month plus three in case of emergencies made fifteen a year… for eight years, round that up to ten… which worked because he was eating so much more those first years… Ten times fifteen. One hundred fifty. And that was just food. He hadn’t always had a full nonlethal policy. Lack of care for human life meant that his other bodies were probably the same number as hers. Round that up…

“Roughly… roughly two hundred.” His voice was quiet as the realization settled in, as the slight shock and horror passed through his eyes. That number sounded a lot bigger than it felt. So many of them had just been in the huntsong that he barely even remembered their faces. One of these days he was going to have to see if he couldn’t remember how many at what times, even if he couldn’t remember who they were.

And the worst part was that all he could think was: Only two hundred?

But I feel it burning, like when the winter wind stops my breathing.​

He realized he’d been holding his breath. Like he was waiting for her to judge him – or hit him. Of course he knew she wouldn’t – that was stupid. If she hadn’t hit him for almost ripping her throat out (however ignorant she had to be of that to not), she wouldn’t hit him over this. He couldn’t help the feeling, but he could know better. He was hers.

He breathed. Even with the distance between them closed, he could feel the cold gnawing at his bones again. He’d be bringing the number up soon. He’d need to figure out how to do it without her noticing.

Not today. Today he had her favorite foods, he had her scent, he had stopped himself from taking her throat. He had her hand in his, and his hunger had been forced to settle. He could relax, today. Tomorrow would come, but today was a gift, as was every second he had her. Not as much of her as he wanted, would ever want, but as much as he could take without losing her forever.

Are you really gonna love me when I’m gone?
I fear you won’t, I fear you don’t.​

“How- how old are you, Sammy?” He felt like the birthday question was going to be implied with that – and like her, he could start easily, release some of the tension, before following with the other one. “And who’re the people in Philly? The bastard whose heart you want on a platter, but – who’re the other five?”
 

Two hundred. Sam started calculating that in her head, as fast as she could, so there wasn’t time wasted between his words and her response, so he couldn’t see her calculating it. Two hundred over twenty-seven years. That was roughly seven a year if she was right. And that was if he had been fed since he was a baby. Sam had no idea when this started, but that number told her that this had been an always thing, not an adult desire. That was… relieving, honestly. It meant he was like this naturally, that he likely required it to live.

By her calculations, he had to eat probably about once every month and a half. If he had to eat seven people a year and say he had to even out to about one a month for eight months of the year, to account for the half months, then that would be about one hundred and ninety-six over a twenty-seven-year life span. Of course, that was taking into account he had to eat people as a baby. Which, if that were the case… it also had to be hereditary.

And it echoes when I breathe,
‘Til all you’ll see is my ghost
Empty vessel, crooked teeth.

He had called his father human. He never said anything about his mother, however. She must have been the same. That must have been how they knew he needed it, enough to feed it to him as a child. Otherwise… otherwise he probably would have died, she guessed. She shivered a little at the thought of having never met him.

She moved on from that. Her next thought was how close his birthday was. And if he got overlooked a lot because of Christmas, well. Sam was going to make this the best birthday she possibly could. She would have gifts, she would cook for him, she would give him– well, whatever he asked for.

She smiled at Todd, an acknowledgment of his number, but no other reaction to it. She didn’t push, did exclaim in horror, barely reacted outside a smile and a brief nod. Her eyes were thoughtful, though, as she replied to his first question.

“Well, I’m twenty-five, and my birthday is–” She paused her face suddenly going blank. “My, my birthday is… I don’t remember. It’s been so many years since I even thought about it, I just know I was born in 1998. Early. M-March?”

Her voice shook a little and she let go of his hand, standing up. She walked over to the counter where her wallet and keys rested in their basket. She flipped her wallet open and flipped to her driver's license. A moment later, she nodded and looked back at him. “March 21st, 1998.”

She returned to the table and took his hand back up. This time, though, she squeezed it tight and took a deep breath. It didn’t stop the sudden burning of rage that she tried to clamp down on. The rage was softer now, less violent, but still there. A tightness in her chest reminded her that she had allowed herself to almost forget about the justice she needed to enact, the fact that she needed to seek revenge on Alice’s behalf.

Wish you could see,
And they call me under,
And I’m shaking like a leaf,
And they call me under.

With a shaking voice, she listed them off. “Malachite. Sulphur. Lapis Lazuli. Hematite. Rhodanite. They call themselves Slate. They’re Obsidian’s personal team, his guards, his assassins, his second in commands. From what I’ve gathered from torturing and killing forty people, I will have to go through them. I’ll have to fight my way through them to get my hands around his fucking throat. I don’t want to kill them, but everyone has said they won’t stop unless I do. That none of them will step aside. So I add six more to my tally, and then I never kill again. That’s the hope, anyway.”

The rage she felt was now compounded by guilt that swam in her eyes. She should have been stronger. Alice had needed her and she hadn’t been able to save her. It was her fault that Alice was dead, her fault that he had gotten away. If it hadn’t been for the fact that someone had recognized her at that first Slate hideout she had busted up, she never would have even gotten the name Obsidian. She hadn’t even tried to look for him directly, because her grief had been too strong.

But now she felt guilt. Guilt for letting Alice go, for loving Todd as much as she did. She knew Alice would want her to let go, entirely. To move on and let go of revenge, of the heavy justic she was seaking.

Eye for an eye.

Life for a life.

But Sam, she couldn’t stop. She didn’t know how to stop anything she did. She was so all or nothing, so driven by obsession and blinded by the desire for revenge. She looked back up at Todd. His faded blue eyes grounded her, and she let the rage ebb away. She was here, now, with him, and she could feel his pulse vibrate through her body like a siren song, even now. She soaked it in and let her warmth change from rage to something softer and so much warmer. She let the love flow out of her in a steady stream.

“What else, what do you want to know? Ask me anything.”​
 
When he looked at her eyes, the horror in his wasn’t reflected there. She smiled at him, and he let himself relax. She wouldn’t forgive him if he knew what he’d done to those people, but she could accept the number. In fact, her smile only receded when she realized she didn’t remember when her birthday was. Todd’s didn’t. He stayed where he was while she checked her license, and carved the date into his memory like stone. If she couldn’t remember it through the haze of what she’d been through, then he’d remember for her.

What had she been through, he wondered as she returned to his side, that filled her with so much rage? He could already smell it, as she sat beside him. He held her hand firmly as it shook in his. He wasn’t going to push her away again. Not now. Not while she told him –

Told him the names of those who had wronged her.

I am a stranger, I am an alien
Inside a structure.​

He stopped hearing her at Lapis. He knew them all already. She’d feel his hand tighten slightly, he was already sure, but she wouldn’t hear the spike in his heart or see the worry in his eyes, not through her anger, not through his sudden and tight grip on himself. Not when he controlled it in such a way that it might be seen as a reflection of her own rage.

This put Todd in a big enough predicament that all her other judgment – potential judgment – was set aside for the moment. He forced his emotions to give way to clear thinking. He’d never been one for civics, for organizations. He would’ve refused Obsidian’s offer if it had been anyone else. But what he was good at was navigating people’s expectations in order to protect himself. And to protect them from himself.

He definitely couldn’t stay the first thing that came to his mind, which was Your tally only needs to be forty-five now. If he’d mentioned Malachite sooner, maybe he’d consider – or if she’d mentioned Obsidian by name when they first spoke. But he couldn’t mention Malachite, because she would have wanted to be there, to see. To help. And if she’d helped with his plan, she might have noticed the same thing Ethan had, or Ethan may have stopped everything to take her from him. And he couldn’t afford to lose her like that, not when it was a situation he could handle.

And on the other hand, there was Ethan Walsh. Ethan Walsh who shared his Sammy’s rage, but who had gone out of his way to try to kill her – who had killed Alice. The connection was there, even without all the context. Ethan, who shared her obsession. Who wanted Todd with a wolf’s want, not in the same way that Sammy did but with the same declaration of mine. And neither would accept sharing. Already, he knew them better than that.

He didn’t want Sam to get herself killed. She was right, Obsidian was terrifying, and she couldn’t take on the whole Pack – all of Slate, apparently – by herself. Or even just with Todd. And, even with the new knowledge, Todd didn’t want to fight Slate. He understood her trauma, her fear of the predator who’d taken Alice from her. But Todd was a predator, too, even if she didn’t know it. And after the first meeting, Todd was pretty sure Slate was the best solution to soothing his animal enough to be safe for Sam, to avoid incidents like just now.

Are you really gonna love me when I'm gone
With all my thoughts and all my faults?​

He had to tell her another lie. Not directly. Because she didn’t ask him, he didn’t have to lie to her directly. This was another secret. An omission to protect the people he loved, this time not from himself, but from each other.

Sam would never kill again. Not if he could help it. He could protect everyone, if he was careful. And he was going to be careful. No slip-ups. No mistakes.

I feel it biting, I feel it break my skin
So uninviting.​

“Tell me about Alice. What was she like? She sounds… incredible.” A sheepish smile to conceal – something. “A lot better than me, anyway.”
 

Are you really gonna need me when I’m gone?
I fear you won’t
I fear you don’t.

He accepted her answers with the same ease that she had accepted his number. Without further questioning, without further prying. Just an acceptance of the rage that burned within her. His pulse had spiked with hers, as he took her rage and reflected it, just like he had done that night on the roof. She remembered what he had said to her then. She felt the rage finally ebb away as she remembered that Todd would be there with her, that Todd would help her rip the very heart from Obsidian’s chest. She wasn’t alone in this anymore.

Then he said her name. And for some reason, hearing him say her name, that sent her spiraling down into the guilt. It was as deep and bottomless as the ocean. She swallowed and her grip on his hand lessened. This time, she felt it as she started to flicker. How many weeks had it been since she thought her name? Had it been since that night on the rooftop?

Sam’s lips trembled, and she looked away from Todd. “You know how Arlo was the best man you’ve ever met? Alice was… Alice was. Fuck. Alice was the best person I ever met. I’m sure this is colored by the fact that we were still technically kids. She was two years older than me, and she was… we were so close that ‘friends’ doesn’t even begin to describe what we were. But she was the most serene person you’d ever met. Calm and collected and so damn brilliant. I could never hope to be as smart as she was.”

She paused, the emotions climbing up her throat choking her. Sam hadn’t actually talked about Alice in years. She hadn’t even really processed her death properly. In her head, she knew that Alice would want her to let go and move on. She would have been ecstatic to have heard that Sam had met Todd. She would’ve encouraged her to chase him, to chase happiness and love. Alice would have wanted Sam to be happy because that was all she ever wanted.

And that was why the guilt was pulling her under.

And it echoes when I breathe
‘Til all you’ll see is my ghost.

Sam’s hand went completely slack, and she felt her heart break as the guilt overwhelmed her. It washed over the wildfire inside her, putting out the fire like rain. She didn’t deserve the kind of happiness Alice would have wanted for her. She didn’t deserve the love she felt for Todd. She didn’t deserve any of this. She was the reason Alice was dead. She was the reason Alice had died afraid and alone. It was her fault.

Everything was her fault.

Sam shut her eyes and very gently withdrew her hand from Todd’s. She didn’t take it far, just unlaced her fingers from his. If he wanted to pull her back, it would be easy enough. In the back of her head, she heard that soft and smooth voice, lower than her own and softer than a summer breeze.

“Go get them, Wildcat.”

“I fell in love with her, right before the end. Not… the way that I. Not like you. I don’t think it was supposed to be that way, I think she was just the only person who was never afraid of me. And I… I let her die. I was supposed to protect her. I was the strong one, she was the powerful one. She could bend reality, make the world do what she wanted, but she needed me to be the brick wall between her and everything else. She wasn’t fast. She wasn’t strong. She wasn’t durable. I’m the reason she’s dead, because I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off, to give her the time to do what she did best.”

She wasn’t sure when she had started crying, but now she couldn’t see, could only see a fuzzy outline of Todd when she opened her eyes, the tears distorting her vision. She wrapped her free arm around herself as if she could hold it all in.

“I had to watch her die. I had to see her face, so full of fear as he wrapped his hand around her throat. As he took all of the life from her. All because I wasn’t good enough. I’m still not good enough. I don’t deserve– I don’t deserve–”

She looked up at him then, her tears spilling over. Him, her eyes said. She didn’t deserve him, and the happiness he gave her. She didn’t deserve to be happy, in love, and doing well. Not when she hadn’t atoned yet. Not when she hadn’t found Obsidian and made him feel that same fear. She would never know peace, never be rid of the ghost of her Alice, not until it was done.

“I don’t deserve to be happy.”

And I’m shaking like a leaf
And they call me underneath to this storm.”​
 
Todd listened, and he understood. He understood what it was to be the weaker of the pair, to be the support, to be depended on by someone who trusted him to protect them to watch their six. He’d never been the stronger one, but he’d been the strategist, the tactician. Arlo had been everything else. He’d just trusted Todd to watch his back.

That mistake had been fatal.

That was something worth being guilty over. Something he was guilty for. Weakness – there was no guilt in weakness. Not in Todd’s mind. Especially facing Obsidian, who could douse Sammy’s spark the same way he’d dragged the cold to the forefront of Cryptid’s mind. If he could blame Sam for weakness, then he’d blame Arlo for dying – Summer, for dying. And that was senseless.

All those eyes on me
As I sink into the open sea.​

Her hand was cold. His fingers curled around hers when she tried to pull away from him. Not trapping her hand, but keeping the contact all the same. He wanted her here, he wanted to let her touch him. Had it not been for the incident just a moment ago, had it not been for her weakness, he would have pulled her close and held her. He couldn’t trust himself with that, but he could be here.

When she opened her eyes, he could tell she didn’t see him. He cried easily – way too easily. He was familiar with the haze she saw him through. And his humanity wanted to lend her creature comfort, to cradle her in his arms and promise that everything would be okay, that he’d be strong enough for both of them. At any other moment, he may have.

Colour in my sheltered mind
Fill the gap between you and I.​

He took her hand, and pressed his lips to it in gentle adoration.

No hunger now, no teeth. The guilt was hungry enough for her. It couldn’t have her. She was his, even when his claim was gentle, when it reassured rather than ripped apart. He kissed her hand like it was sacred. He had no warmth to give her; he had only the cold and the hunger. Those could only take. The animal could only take and tear.

But the man could give. He could give her his teeth for kindling, a kiss as a spark. The winter wind to fan the fire, not douse it. He could stain his lips not with her blood, but with the warmth she had already given him. And he could do it without giving her so much as a scratch. By giving her comfort, even.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongues
We set the fire and we let it burn
Through the dreamers, we hear the hum:​

“Sammy.” He spoke into her hand, into the back of it, soft and deep. “That was not your fault.”

He wanted to hate Obsidian. Wanted to hate Ethan. But he couldn’t do that without hating himself more. He’d seen Summer’s parents at her memorial. He’d seen Summer’s best friend, who was going to graduate and go to college and live her life without her. He couldn’t hate Obsidian more than he hated himself for that. And he couldn’t hate himself when Samantha Walsh loved him.

“You deserve love.”

You deserve Alice. You deserve so much better than me. Than cold and fangs.

“You’re strong, Sammy. Just because he was stronger does not mean you weren’t strong enough. And, God, you are more than good enough. You’re too good for me.”

You’re so much stronger than I am. I want your strength. I want to drown in it. Someday, I will.

“You deserve peace.”

You deserve absolution. And he kissed her hand again, to offer it.

They say, “Come on, come on, let’s go.”
So come on, come on, let’s go.​
 

“Todd, I– I–”

The tears wouldn’t stop once they had started. She hadn’t cried in years. Not since the night she had woken up and reached out to touch Alice, only to find her body empty of what made it her. She hadn’t cried since Mrs. Shaw had held her in her arms and sat on the steps of their fireproof room and cried into her long curls. Not since she had buried her face in the women’s many scarves and wailed her heart out.

Now, she found every wound reopening, found just how bad they had been festering inside her, and she found that the tears wouldn’t stop. Everything burned and bled like it was fresh. It might as well have been. It might as well have been for all the pain that it filled Sam with. Even Todd’s lips on her skin wasn’t enough to make it stop.

It’s warm, the skin I’m living in
It creates and shapes what is within.

The heat that had died was roaring beneath her skin now. She was letting herself stay cold, now, because she had to. As her tears became full sobs, as she dropped her face into her hand, as she squeezed tight to Todd’s hand because she didn’t know what else to do, the fire was beginning to blaze beneath her skin.

Control. She needed to keep control. Even as she fell apart, even in her vulnerability, she could never lose control. Not ever. The amount of damage she could cause a person, if she just let go in a moment like this, if she just let go–

The fire rose to a fever pitch, and she could feel her skin begin to burn. The heat didn’t leave her, but it became her. She blinked away tears that steamed on her skin, and she looked at her skin to find it flushed. She ripped her hand out of Todd’s, unsure whether she had already burned him. She would never forgive herself if she burned him.The tears still fell and fell and fell and kept falling as she rose from her seat.

So please, look away, don’t look at me
As we sink into the open sea.

“I need to, I need to g-go. Just, just let me– just stay– just stay.” But even as she said it, she knew it was too late. She backed away from him, and into the kitchen, her hands blindly searching for the sliding glass door to the balcony. She found the door through her tears, but then found it to be locked.

Fuck. Fuck This was bad. She could see her skin burning, see the flush spreading and darkening across her skin. The fire was pressing against her and demanding to be let free. She backed herself into the corner, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to hold it in as she sobbed. She looked in Todd’s direction and she tried to force the tears to stop.

“I’m sorry, I don’t w-want t-to hurt you.” She pressed her hands to her chest and tried to will it to go back down, to recede into her skin. She looked down at her own body, the broken form that wouldn’t even let her cry in peace. Sometimes she hated what she was. She hated the fire that burned others, that consumed her from the inside out. She hated that fire, right then, for the fact that she couldn’t be near Todd as she imploded, that she couldn’t touch the man she loved as her grief and guilt consumed her.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongue
We set the fire, and we let it burn.

She smiled sadly in his direction as her body started to shiver. The fire was pushing, pushing, pushing. It was rising to the surface, and she knew what was coming. She knew the explosion was coming. “I can’t, I can’t stop this. You should leave. You sh-should leave before I burn you.”​
 
It was Sam’s turn to tear away. Todd could feel the emotions on her – could smell them, thick and heavy in the air, in her tears as they turned to vapor. And, God, in that moment she smelled the same as Ethan had – her brother, whose predator had taken his own lover to protect itself.

Was Todd the same way? Would he be?

I know that it’s a waste of time, chasing in the dark
But keep me in your clouded mind until time ignites a spark.​

In the depths of his hunger, in the cold that craved her, in the survivor, he knew he may not survive the coming storm. In the sting of his fingers, in the pink rawness of his skin that he hid by closing it into a fist, he knew too much more and even his cold would not protect him. And in her tears, in his knowledge she wouldn’t even see it coming, he knew he could stop her. Even with the way her blood would boil on his tongue he could tear her throat out before her heat could kill him.

She was backing away from him. She was running, the way she hadn’t when he pushed her away. His muscles pulled tight as she moved away, as she cried, as she struggled with the door. Trapped. She was trapped here, with him. Him with her. One of them, both of them. They could consume each other entirely here, if he was too slow, if either was too slow. Would she let the fire out, when she realized what he was doing?

I know that it’s a waste of time, chasing in the dark.​

But he wasn’t doing it. He was sitting still, watching her with the mix of caution and curiosity in his eyes before he got a grip on his instincts, on the animal that only thought in bite and run. This had always been a possibility, an outcome among many. Would always be until either fire or teeth won. The teeth that had already threatened to take her, lured her into security just to break her heart before he could break her skin.

His skin was cold. Under his sweater there were goosebumps, and he could feel the chill gnawing on his bones. He hoped she couldn’t see when he started to shake, torn between fight and flight, torn through with sudden cold to counter the rising temperature.

But keep me in your clouded mind until time ignites a spark.​

All she could think of was him, though. Stay. Go. She wanted him, needed him with a hunger deeper and more holy than his own, but she needed him to survive. She wanted him to live through this. She didn’t know what he was, what he’d survived already. Broken bones and ruptured insides and freezing cold and the depths of starvation. She didn’t know how much he could give her, how much he would give her. Almost as much as he could take.

He stood up. He did it slowly, like a man watching an animal that might bite or run. He held her eyes, blinking slowly, and then walked toward her. Step and step, eyes on her all the time. She didn’t have it in her to run away. His predator knew that. And he knew, if there was ever a time to take her, this was the chance.

Instead, he pushed his back against the wall and sank down beside her, his skin already itching in the waves of heat.

I know that it’s a waste of time, chasing in the dark
But keep me in your clouded mind until time ignites a spark.​

I deserve this. If I don’t already, someday I will. I’ll take what she gives me now.

He pressed his forehead into her shoulder, bare where he pushed the sleeve up. Where he felt the burn of heat meet the chill of his own skin. He knew this was stupid, that of course even if he survived this he would need to eat soon. Malachite would keep him alive, but he would need to eat.

“My sweater isn’t going to survive this,” he murmured against her feverish skin.

“But let it out, Sammy. Let it out. Give me your warmth.”

I’m yours, the way my animal wants you to be mine.
 

She shook her head at him as he came closer, her eyes begging him to turn away, to head to the front door and leave her. Even if he could heal, she didn’t know if he could withstand her fire. Her curls were already rising in the distortion of heat, and still, he kept coming toward her. He slid down the wall next to her, pushed her sleeve up, and placed his forehead against her shoulder. Her shivering grew in intensity as she tried to hold it in, as she tried so desperately not to hurt him, to damage him, to burn him.

But then he spoke, and his words, murmured against her burning skin, asked for her fire. He asked for her heat, for her sorrow and her guilt. In the background of everything, she heard her album skip a few times and then heard the clicking as the arm lifted and returned to the beginning of the album. What a strange thing for her to notice right then. What a strange thing to catch her attention as everything began to slow, began to crawl.

Showered by empty hopes
As I tumble down
Falling fast to the ground.

Then, everything sped up, time catching back up to her as a scream was torn from her throat. Heat exploded out from her, a wave so big and explosive that her decorations were ripped off the walls above their heads. She could feel it all rushing out, swirling like a deadly storm, and even she knew that she was burning. A single spark could have set fire to the entire room in a blaze. It burned even her, scorching the hairs on her arms and catching at the ends of her hair where it lifted in the air. She was the one who was fireproof, the one who could handle molten glass. And yet, the fire of her own despair was so much worse than that.

She turned her head into Todd’s hair as sobs wracked her body, as she shook and jerked with their intensity. But no tears made it past her lash line, where they evaporated and disappeared in the cyclone that now circled them. Her cotton clothes miraculously didn’t catch in the spiral, but around the room, the effects of her heat were starting to show. Pillowcases on the couch melting and turning shiny, the metal sink shimmering from its rising temperature, the glass of water on the table steaming.

I know I’ll wither
So peel away the bark
Because nothing
Grows when it is dark

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, I’m so sorry.” The words fell from her lips, and she wasn’t sure if she was apologizing to Todd for hurting him, for burning him, or if she was apologizing to Alice for leaving her behind, for moving on. Maybe she was apologizing to both of them. She couldn’t say for sure.

She would have wrapped her arms around Todd’s shoulders, held onto him like an anchor in a hurricane, but she was terrified of hurting him more than she already was. There was no way he wasn’t burnt, no way his skin wasn’t blistered from her heat. All she could do right then was give him pain, give him sorrow, give him guilt, give him fear. All hers, all unwilling gifts. She didn’t want him to be witness to this. But she would accept his gift, his sacrifice for her, because as the fire began to recede, began to leave her, she realized something.

In spite of all my fears,
I can see it all so clear
I see it all so clear.

As the heat began to leave her shivering, as it collapsed in on her and left her with nothing to warm herself with, she realized something. It was clear as day to her now. The storm around them stopped churning and began to dissipate, filling the rest of the apartment with its heat. Behind her, she could feel the paint on the wall peeling away, melting into her clothes. With the dissipation of the emotional turmoil came a clarity, a clarity that brought her understanding. That understanding was enough to help lull her into soft and shallow breaths, enough to bring her down, her weight falling into Todd.

She shivered violently, constantly. But still, as tears began to finally roll down her face and drip into his hair, a small smile took her lips. In her frozen, emotionally drained state, she knew one thing with absolute certainty. No one was stupid enough to sit next to the girl made of fire when she exploded. No one was stupid enough to do something that would likely kill them, even when it was something they could possibly heal from. It didn’t matter how much you liked someone, you wouldn’t risk all of your literal skin to provide them some level of comfort.

Even if he didn’t know it, even if he was scared that it wasn’t true, Todd Fowler loved her as much as she loved him.

She let that knowledge sink into her as she shivered. It sparked something inside her, and that little flicker was just enough to warm her through, to stave off the hypothermia. She closed her heavy eyes. One of her shaking hands went to his hair, and in a voice with so much more raw rasp than her usual voice, she whispered, “Todd? Are you okay?”​
 
The heat came all at once, but the burn came in degrees. A creeping tingle across his skin, even under the layers; an itch in the back of his throat; a dryness in his mouth. Then it burned, really burned, but he set his tongue between his teeth and braced. Because it was heat, and not fire, it bit right through his sweater, the fibers starting to melt and char while the skin underneath reached a degree of temperature he’d never experienced before. His eyes were closed, and he felt them water, but knew they weren’t going to. They wouldn’t have the chance. As she cried and wailed, he took in her pain in sucking gulps through his mouth and nose, smelling every second of terror, of agony, of rage. Tinged, on the edges, with cinnamon.

But I’m okay in see-through skin.
I forgive what is within.​

And then there was nothing. The burning stopped, though the heat wasn’t finished. His skin was dead, and though he wouldn’t look he knew it was as red as the muscle underneath, like it had simply peeled away to show the meat that made up every animal. But, for the first time since meeting her, Todd had no sense of Sam’s flesh. None of her blood, none of her meat. She was all fire, all emotion, and he held on to that, pressing his face and palms into her and feeling the different flavor of cold as it came from outside, from her fire, and not from inside himself.

And of course, the cold inside him rose up to meet the pain and the fire. Of course he felt the jaws of hunger close on him as his body began to dissipate the last sparks of energy from Jasper and Mark into circulation so that his skin could begin to repair itself. He would have to eat, once he had healed. Yet – yet there was no temptation, none at all, to turn his face down and tear her throat out. Instinct, perhaps, demanded he not risk more damage by biting into the source of their pain.

Or, maybe he loved her. Maybe he loved her the way a deer loved a forest fire, surrounded by her, filled with her, unable to run any more. Unable to turn his face away even though he knew she could take his life with an errant tongue of flame. Aware that any part of her could bring down the branch that could crush him, that her shimmering heat could devour him faster than any wolf, aware that her smoke could suffocate him. She was all heat, all pain, and no fire. And all fire.

Maybe his resignation to her, lying down beside her like a burning tree that come winter he would have stripped of its bark, was a kind of love.

Because I’m in this house, I’m in this home
All my time.​

She apologized to him. She apologized to him, and he laughed, a rustling little dry laugh, the rustle of tinder-leaves. She had no idea, no idea that he had been closer to killing her in that kiss than she was now to killing him. Even now with his cold skin and colder bones. Even as her fire slowed, and then faded away, as he felt the heat leave without any feeling at all.

Stiffly, he reached over. Every layer of his skin was dead, but he felt her through the pressure that tingled deeper, in the way he felt irritation when she rubbed up against his damaged skin, smelled her in his own blood despite the burns inside his nose and throat. He pulled her onto his lap as she went cold, and held her, where she couldn’t run from him and he was much too tired to consider taking her while she was weak. Her fingers tangled in his hair, against his numb scalp, and he smiled even if smiling drew blood.

“We’re both here, aren’t we?” He kissed her hair with his scabbed lips, gently, so she wouldn’t feel the coarseness or the damp. So she wouldn’t feel how cold he was. He couldn’t help the rasp in his voice, worse than usual, but so, so soft. No growl left, no hunger, just resignation. “Can’t get much more okay than that.”
 

She didn’t fight, couldn’t fight, as he pulled her onto his lap. Now that all the fire was gone, Sam only felt bone-deep exhaustion. She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever been so tired. Todd’s arms wrapped around her, and it was enough to keep her tears going. They dripped down her still chilly skin. There was a warmth to Todd that normally wasn’t there. She felt enough warmth for the both of them, had enough to spare for him when he needed it. Except for then.

Right then, she was soaking in what heat she could from him, heat she had given him. It was gradually bringing her back up, but she could tell she wouldn’t be reaching the temperature she naturally was for quite some time. Instead of focusing on that, she focused on his lips in her hair, on his arms wrapped around her heavy body. She could feel her breaths even out, despite the fact that the tears still fell from her eyes.

This was Todd’s gift to her. Despite what he was, he chose to sit beside her as she caught fire, chose to hold her in his arms again. Did he have to eat when he took this much damage? Did this affect things like that? In spite of the fact that her eyes were closed, she knew he was burnt. Burnt so much worse than anyone she had ever accidentally burnt. And yet, still, he was there. He was there and he was doing his best not to alarm her with how damaged she knew he was. This was Todd’s gift to her. This was Todd’s sacrifice. This was Todd’s love.

Cover you crystal eyes
And feel the tones that
Tremble down your spine.

She hummed to the song, letting her head nestle into the collar of his shirt, just above where the fibers of his sweater had melted into it. She let the hand in his hair fall, heavy, down to her lap. She couldn’t keep her body up anymore, and was leaning into him, letting him hold her small form to his. She had never felt smaller in her life than she did in that moment, in his arms. He held her like she was precious to him.

She tried to speak but tasted iron on her tongue. Her throat was bleeding. She swallowed softly and spoke anyway. “Thank you. For everything. God, for everything.”

He wouldn’t know she was thanking him for his love. He wouldn’t know that for a long time. Not until he could admit it to himself. And then, when he was there with her, she would tell him. She would tell him every moment she had ever loved him for. She would tell him every word that had actually meant “I love you”. She would give him every kiss, every touch, every promise she had ever wanted to give him. When he could admit to himself that he loved her too, she would give him the whole world. But for now, she would let her head rest on his chest, feel his heartbeat resonate through her shoulder, feel his breath in her hair. She would take the gift.

Cover your crystal eyes
And let your colors bleed
And blend with mine.

Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the darkness coming in. She could feel it creeping around her consciousness, She brought one of her heavy hands up to cover his heart, letting it beat through her. She kept it there as long as she could, fighting the darkness, but eventually, she had to let it drop. She coughed, tasting iron on her lips as she whispered with her last moment of consciousness, “I love you, Todd.”​
 
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