Chioniphobia

Apology

Grim smiled, her eyes still closed. "Awfully rude of you to come in without knocking."

Pitch emerged from the shadows on the opposite wall, his golden-eyed gaze burning into her. (And since when am I known for my manners?) he signed, his fluid movements more staggered, more sharp than usual.

"Fair point," Grim replied, stretching slightly as she craned her neck to look up at the Boogeyman. "Feeling less murderous today, I hope?"

He said nothing, circling her until she couldn't see him. She frowned.

"Now darling, it's poor sport to scare someone in poor health," she scolded.

She flinched as she felt a hand brush aside her hair.

"Sweetheart...what are you doing?" she asked, tensing as a finger traced down her spine.

Suddenly he was in front of her again, and her eyes fixed on the quick, almost jerky movements of his hands.

(I'm sorry.)

She opened her mouth, but he put a finger to her lips. She scraped her teeth over the pad of his finger and glared up at him warningly. "Don't make me bite your hands off as well, darling."

He yanked his hand away from her face. (I'm not sorry for killing him.)

"I'm shocked."

(But I am sorry for hurting you,) he finished.

Her eyes widened, and she drew her head back slightly as she appraised him.

"Sorry for hurting me?" She scoffed. "And why should you be sorry for that?"

He scowled. (Don't ask questions you know the answers to.)

"I won't then. Why are you sorry for hurting me?"

They stared at each other for a long moment. His shoulders dropped, just slightly.

(You really don't know.)

"No, I don't. That's why I asked you, silly."

His scowl deepened, then vanished. He let out a breath, and she glimpsed the still-healing stump of his tongue. (Because I care about you.)

He expected her to laugh, or roll her eyes, or mock him somehow. He hadn't expected her to sit up, her eyes sharpening. "Care about me?"

His fingers twitched.

I love you

He nodded. (Yes.)

She frowned, her gaze softening. She shifted to the side of the bed, patting the space she'd opened up. "Here. Lie down with me."

He did so, lying on his back as she slid down onto her side.

"You know why I said I'd choose them over you?"

Pitch inhaled through his nose. (Because you love them.)

"I do love them, same as you."

He stopped breathing. Grim didn't notice, continuing to talk as if she hadn't just dropped life-changing information.

"The reason I'd choose them over you is because I'll always have you. I'm going to lose them no matter what, so if I had to choose, I'd choose them. Not because I love you any less, but because I know one day they'll be gone, and you won't."

He turned his head to meet her eyes. (You've never told me you loved me.)

She blinked. "I thought it was implied."

(That's the sort of thing worth saying to someone's face,) he remarked.

Hypocrite

"All right then."

She pulled him close and kissed his nose before putting her mouth to his ear.

"I love you," she whispered.

With her face pressed to his jaw, he doubted she would fail to notice him smiling. He smiled anyway.

Behind her, the door opened.

Grim glanced over her shoulder. "Hello, brother. I'm still alive, in case you were wondering."

Sandy circled to the other side of the bed, taking a seat in the chair. (Something wrong with this side of the bed?)

"Not particularly. I just want to stay on one side so that if I get too warm I can flip onto the other side," she explained.

(So you're a pancake now.)

"Excuse me! You're just assuming I'm a pancake? I could be a grilled cheese sandwich!"

Sandy shrugged. (But you're a pancake.)

"Yes, I'm a pancake. A sleepy pancake. A..." She yawned. "...a sleepy pancake with...blanket syrup..."

Her eyes flickered shut.

Quiet as a ghost, the Sandman drifted from his chair back to the room's entrance. Just as he was about to exit, he turned and grinned at the shadows on the opposite wall.

(I'll tell the others not to disturb her for now.)

The Guardian of Dreams slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Pitch slinked out of the shadows and lay back down next to Grim.

"Did you get caught?" she asked with eyes still closed.

Pitch pressed his hands into hers as he signed. (Yes. They're sending up a mob with torches and pitchforks as we speak.)

She snorted. "Should've hidden under the bed."

Pitch smiled and curled closer to her.