You're dead, he wants to whisper, scream, crying and aching and needing. Derek, Derek, he's missed him more than anything, everything. Now, his heart beats, now, his lungs inflate, now, he lives. There's fear there, yes, an unknown, desperate and all encompassing, too much too much. He could lean in, taste the curve of Derek's mouth, lose himself in this ghost that settles beneath his hands like something real, tangible.
He could, he could. Derek curls him close, protective, and Chuck wants to surrender himself beneath those hands. But those eyes shutter, glass-cold and blank and he sucks a breath in through the calcite wall of his teeth, sharp sharp sharp. No, no. His hands tremble faint against the curve of Derek's cheek, slipping just so, pressing softly to the hollow at his throat, needing, needing.
The steady beat of a pulse echoes through him, soothing, except where it isn't.
"Better," He spits, laughs, bitter, breaking, agony clawing up his throat. "Better!"
He near howls with laughter, teeth gleaming bright and sharp beneath the shattered glass wreck of a smile. Derek's question is ignored, pushed aside with all that he's forgone, nothing so much as bitter pills, cyanide and arsenic, silver and almond and foam at his lips. He knows, he knows. Meulin's words slip, sharp and cold, slivers of ice beneath his skin, better, better--
What have they done, what did he allow? This is his fault, Chuck left, Chuck abandoned him.
But it feels too good, those gentle fingertips, even tipped in claws. Chuck swallows, heavily, blinking away anything that might become tears at the familiar rumbling growl echoing in the space between them, ringing through his ribcage. Derek was soothed beneath his touch, but here, now, Chuck's flame kindles once again. He rages, hatred written deep and dark and all encompassing in the lines of his face. His eyes gleam with fury and fervor, sharp sharp sharp.
"They lied." He hisses, hold tightening, suddenly, keeping Derek where he is, face cupped between hands like claws. Leans in, snapping and snarling, a caged wolf torn free, blood at his lips, "The Capitol stole you from me."
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He could, he could. Derek curls him close, protective, and Chuck wants to surrender himself beneath those hands. But those eyes shutter, glass-cold and blank and he sucks a breath in through the calcite wall of his teeth, sharp sharp sharp. No, no. His hands tremble faint against the curve of Derek's cheek, slipping just so, pressing softly to the hollow at his throat, needing, needing.
The steady beat of a pulse echoes through him, soothing, except where it isn't.
"Better," He spits, laughs, bitter, breaking, agony clawing up his throat. "Better!"
He near howls with laughter, teeth gleaming bright and sharp beneath the shattered glass wreck of a smile. Derek's question is ignored, pushed aside with all that he's forgone, nothing so much as bitter pills, cyanide and arsenic, silver and almond and foam at his lips. He knows, he knows. Meulin's words slip, sharp and cold, slivers of ice beneath his skin, better, better--
What have they done, what did he allow? This is his fault, Chuck left, Chuck abandoned him.
But it feels too good, those gentle fingertips, even tipped in claws. Chuck swallows, heavily, blinking away anything that might become tears at the familiar rumbling growl echoing in the space between them, ringing through his ribcage. Derek was soothed beneath his touch, but here, now, Chuck's flame kindles once again. He rages, hatred written deep and dark and all encompassing in the lines of his face. His eyes gleam with fury and fervor, sharp sharp sharp.
"They lied." He hisses, hold tightening, suddenly, keeping Derek where he is, face cupped between hands like claws. Leans in, snapping and snarling, a caged wolf torn free, blood at his lips, "The Capitol stole you from me."