[ his heart stutters in his chest, holding her tighter as she leans in. he closes his eyes and brushes his lips back against hers, pressing and holding for as long as she deems to stay. he hears his own voice like an echo in his mind: "I'm not what you're looking for." again, there's a flash of blonde hair, a tall woman this time, but it doesn't make any sense. when the kiss breaks he looks worse off than before, but tries to cover it by tipping his forehead against hers, his other hand fisting in her clothes to effectively cling to her. ]
I think maybe I'm sick.
[ what else could explain all these pictures and words? none of them line up with anything that's ever happened to him. explosions, soldiers yelling in the desert. then explosions in a city, fire in the shape of a skull as a man screams. a shudder moves through him, his head dropping heavily to her shoulder. the only thing he feels secure in right now is this: his marriage to dutch. it's the only thing he trusts. ]
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I think maybe I'm sick.
[ what else could explain all these pictures and words? none of them line up with anything that's ever happened to him. explosions, soldiers yelling in the desert. then explosions in a city, fire in the shape of a skull as a man screams. a shudder moves through him, his head dropping heavily to her shoulder. the only thing he feels secure in right now is this: his marriage to dutch. it's the only thing he trusts. ]