ANOTHER BOOK OF BS INSTEAD OF SLEEP

I Don't Go Down Easy, I Don't Back Out Quiet

"THERE IS A BEAUTIFUL STATUE OF A PERSON IN THE MIDDLE OF A LARGE CITY, AND THE RUMOUR SURROUNDING THE STATUE IS THAT WHEN THEY TOUCH HANDS WITH THEIR SOULMATE, THEY WILL BECOME HUMAN. NATURALLY, IT BECOMES A PERFECT PHOTO AND VIDEO OPPORTUNITY TO POSE WHILE HOLDING ITS HAND.

ONE CUTE SELFIE ATTEMPT RESULTS IN AN EMPTY STATUE PODIUM AND YOU JUST BARELY CATCHING A VERY CONFUSED PERSON IN YOUR ARMS."

It was hard to keep track of days.

They are all the same, an endless blur that is slowly starting to fade.

So many people, people, people, people everywhere. They all take his unmoving, solid hand, to take pictures and videos.

Hey, hey, have you heard?

The rumour of that statue. The rumours say that the statue will turn human if it touches hands with its soulmate.

It feels harder and harder to breathe, the more time passes. He knows his sculpted body performs no functions, he's simply there.

He's so numb.

At this rate, it'll all stop soon.

Right?

He can't take any more of this.

He's ready to give up.

Until...

Something catches his attention.

A single face, in the crowd of so many so many so many people. All white noise, he can't hear any of them over the deafening roar of their voices.

Those eyes...

He knows those eyes.

Where?

More days pass, and he struggles to grasp... something.

Word... word? What word?

...Name!

Whose...?

Face.

Face name.

Face's name.

Face. Him. Name.

His name...?

It takes several more days, and he's teased with only the faintest glimpses. It drives him insane, and he fights to remember.

_a___.

More days, only glimpses of that man.

_a_c_.

That man, he's tall. Very tall. And handsome. Wonder how his lips taste. They're pretty lips. Very kissable.

_a_ce.

The man comes closer, for longer periods of time. His face is clear, but as soon as it comes into focus, he only remains for a split second. Those lips, do they taste good? Do they taste like love and mad lust and yearning? And those hands, do they feel like warmth and home and affection?

La_ce.

So close, so close, so close.

His face is visible now, he knows that face. Those lips. Those eyes. Those hands. All of it.

Lance.

Lance.

Lance...

Lance...?

Lance...!

Lance, Lance, Lance.

Lance?

Lance?

Lance...

Lance!

LANCE!

His hand-

"EDGE!"

Arms. Hands. Lips. Chest. Shoulder. Cheek. Hair. Words. Tears. Love.

"L-Lance...?"

Arms... so tight around him. So... warm.

Hands. Hands holding him so tightly, so securely like they'll never let go.

Lips, soft lips against his neck, caressing untouched skin with words and love.

Chest, strong against his own, breathing in time with his own somewhat shallow breaths.

Shoulder, his chin is resting on someone- Lance's shoulder as the man holds him so tightly.

Cheek, hair, soft against his skin.

Tears, tears dripping onto him. Not his own.

Love.

Yes.

Weakly, he drapes his arms around Lance, and the tears dripping onto his skin grow more frequent.

"Lance...?"

"Oh Edge... I almost lost you... You can't leave me, you can't!"

"Don't..." Edge fumbled for words, his voice somewhat hoarse from lack of use,"...understand..."

Lance pulled back to cup his cheeks in his hands, those beautiful caring blue eyes spilling tears. "Edge, you don't remember?"

Edge shook his head.

"You were in a coma. You've been asleep for over a month... You almost... Almost..." Lance couldn't finish. "They said... they told me to say goodbye, Edge. They told me you wouldn't..." he pulled Edge in for another hug, whispering, "...wouldn't wake up..."

Edge said nothing, melting into the arms he'd subconsciously craved for so long, all those days as a "statue," in his head...?

"I love you, Edge. I couldn't lose you, I refuse."

Edge couldn't find the strength to speak, and instead pressed his chapped lips to Lance's.

In that moment, Lance loved him so hard he could almost cry from the affection alone.

All those days, all those countless days, worth it, worth it.

Worth it to wake up, wake up for the man he loves so dearly.