Two Eyes Cenote i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

the only thing meseba expects is to feel the weight lifted off his chest as his confession being spoken aloud to her. but he does not. instead, he feels every second as it ticks by, feels the fast beat of his heart within his ribcage echoing like it was amplified.

he is quiet as she speaks, holding his breath even so he might not miss the trembling whisper of her words.

she draws nearer and reaches for him his body aches; it's origin his heart.

her hand on his arm. his breath expels itself from betwixt his lips in a soft sigh. he knows in that very moment that he would worship her, if she let him. that he accepts any and every part of her: broken, ashes, whole.

eset, her name is a tremor as it leaves his own lips. loving you, even if it is only ever from afar is enough. he speaks in the hopes of assuring her that he has not been frightened off, that he would not run off and sulk. that he would go no where she did not command him to.

she knew now and meseba was free from the torturous prison of his own making he'd kept himself trapped in while he'd secreted it all to his chest.