Broken Boulder I believe in yesterday

changing up Ali's post style :eyes emoji:

 

Alarian worried for his lover. No, he was more than worried-- he was terrified. The boy trailed him like a lost puppy, too timid to get near but always watching his broken love with an aching heart. He didn't want to make it worse.

When Lennon approached him, he was laying down, grooming himself for the first time in perhaps too long. His coat was dull and tangled, ruffled and dusty and full of bits of foliage from his frequent excursions into the Bracken Woods. The boy had made it his second home; the territory of broken stone and tunnels was comforting, but the forest offered a welcome distraction.
Immediately his efforts were abandoned when his love came near, and he rose even before Lennon said his name. Ali couldn't help but nuzzle into Lennon's neck, and if allowed he would cover his face in gentle kisses. He wished he could fix this, somehow. The words came to him but stopped before they could escape.
Lennon. He murmured instead, lingering near the boy who held his heart even after he had ceased his smothering. Alarian was reluctant to move away; he craved the feeling of Lennon near him, warm and real. Not least because, as of late, he often woke from dreams in which his love was gone, or dead-- or simply never himself again. He needed to assure himself that Lennon would get better.
Alarian would not let him wither away.