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Layle & Keiss [Triple Drabble] Rated M
"Mad as a hatter, hot as Hell, red as a beet, and blind as a bat."
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Layle asked.
Coming up with a coherent response had been hard. Too difficult. His mind is melting down the back of his spine and his body is fatigued from bearing its own weight even as he lies in his hammock, breathing slow and trying to focus. On what? A lot. Too much. Keiss stumbled, tripped, and fell all over his resolve, setting himself back. Snippets come in, like someone else’s memories, but they’re all his.
Only his.
Layle pushed his hair out of his face. “Keiss?”
“I’m okay.” Keiss reaches for his hand, but looses track of his own.
White dominates his vision and turns his stomach, enraging him with overflowing shame. Keiss is very ashamed of himself. A simple concept that flows in easy, burrowing in his chest, but refuses to be voiced or expressed. He’s sorry, so sorry, for everything he’s done in a moment of weakness. If Layle leaves, abandons him like this, he wouldn’t blame him.
His partner settles into the hammock with him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A hand travels over Keiss’ arm, to his shoulder, and he loses track of it when it crosses over the bandages. Sensation echoes across his restless, tired body. Flirting with the limit his body could handle leaves him miserable and suffering, mind buckling under the weight of the excess sleeping pills he took on impulse. It’d been days, literal days, since he took more than a short nap, and it got to him.
“What did I do?”
“Don’t worry about that right now.”
The arms wrapped around him hold Keiss together as he falls apart. He’s so dazed and confused that he can’t feel the edge of his body, but Layle presence gives him enough reassurance to eventually doze off.