Unbelieving (A Johnlock Fanfiction)

Strings

A/N: finally ^^

Chapter 8

~

Sherlock

Wait.

Crying. Heaving. Breaking.

Wait.

Falling. Lost. Help me.

Wait.

Helpless. Broken. Breathe.

"I love you."

Crushed.

Wait.

Gone.

--

"Sherlock?" He asked, "are you.. are you really here?" His voice cracked a little, heavy with the pain collected, concentrated inside of him over all these months.

A sob shook him as he raised a trembling hand to touch my cheek. He hesitated for a second, but sparks flew as he came in contact with my skin, and I flew at him, pressing my lips onto his soft ones, grabbing his hair at the back with my hand, and one hand crushing him into me.

The warmth.

The light.

He was golden. I couldn't believe I'd missed out on this for two years. I felt a painful lump rise in my throat as I felt him shiver under my touch, shutter at every sight of me, tear apart on every word

yet his warmth radiated through me, enveloped me, consumed me, inside out, I was only light. Pure light.

He looked barely alive when I saw him. Truly saw him. But none of that mattered, because I wanted to piece him together. Build him up with me, as I fixed myself with him. I wanted to have all of him, and return, I wanted to give all of me, because I knew that was what we needed to stay alive.
To stay alive.

I was dark and broken and felt like murky water on a rainy day.

He was the sun that came out after the storm, through the crevices in the clouds, tearing the sky open and pouring a little bit of himself inside.

He was the sun that evaporated this murky puddle and made it into clouds, sewed them together and tore them again to fill the inside with light. Overflowing, blissful light.

As we kissed, I breathed him in like life, and exhaled death, rotting inside of me. He made me, and broke me, and undid me, pushed me far, so far away and pulled me back again to love me.

Only to love me.

And I breathed him.

"Sherlock," he breathed my name like never before. He said my name. Spoke my name. Like a declaration, or a promise, or a beautiful story with a beautiful ending, like a beautiful, entrancing song. Not a note, not a word, not a shade, it was the whole orchestral piece, the whole book, the whole spectrum of being and need.

"Yes, John?" I choked as I said his name aloud. I saw his eyes light up as I said his name, like he felt the same about the way I said his name.

Beautiful.

Mine.

"I.." He was holding back tears, his eyes already raw from crying. I didn't really see the point in holding it back, he was crying anyway, and I was right here holding him-
"I love you."