Certain People Aren't Dead AU

[highinthemiddle]

cont'd from here

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[highinthemiddle]

Fuck.

The worst part about this is that it isn't bad. Well. Socially this is awful, but physically? Ohio doesn't quite mind being hung onto like that. Like he matters. Like things are okay. That's kind of fulfilling in a very surprising way that he's going to have to escape from immediately, before he thinks about it in too much detail.

So, he has to twist out of this like it's a grapple. Find the weak point in York's grip, press there, move.

"York."

This is gonna be weird, but being let go of? Current top priority.

[goddamngrenades]

"Nnnh." He mumbles incoherently, burrowing deeper into Ohio's shoulder. Like if he clings they wont have to go anywhere. Right now he's warm and comfortable and feeling...safe. Solid. For the first time in years he feels like he might not wake up from a screaming nightmare, the world is distant and soft edged and without the same worry and weight that has him drowning day in, day out.

Not so bad since he fell in with Ohio but-

He doesn't want to let go. He won't. And nothing is going to make him.

[highinthemiddle]

He sure is stubborn. Ohio sinks back down after a moment. He can feel York just clinging onto him, and it doesn't make any sense-

Well. Actually maybe it does, but it definitely means something is still not okay.

Ohio's hand comes up, finds where York's fingers curled in his shirt, and rests across them. It's a hand like the rest of Ohio: broad palm, long fingers. He doesn't grapple with York, he just... rests it there.

He lets out a long, slow breath. He can wait a little. That's a thing he supposes he can do. It's making it a lot harder not to focus on how all this feels or what it might mean, though.

[goddamngrenades]

It takes a little while longer for York to shake himself awake, eyes fluttering, grip shifting on Ohio when it registers that he's...actually sleeping. With Ohio. "...um."

He doesn't really remember why staying or making Ohio stay was so damn important? They both sleep for shit, apparently, without someone else. this? This is the best sleep he's gotten in...years. Literal years. Since Delta deleted himself from his brain- or he thought he'd done that. Slowly he uncurls, patting Ohio's chest awkwardly. "Sorry, bro."

[highinthemiddle]

He could make a joke out of this, probably. Maybe that would even be the smart move, but it's hard because none of this is actually funny to him.

He rolls to sit up. There are options here: Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well? Rise and shine.

"You okay now?" is what he actually says, glancing back at York.

He doesn't want to just dismiss it and try to laugh. It feels like it would be... maybe not rude but something.

[goddamngrenades]

"...yeah." He scrubs at his face, slowly trying to sit up. The patchjob is holding but he's still sore as fuck. "Haven't slept that well in awhile. You?"

Because flipping this around on Ohio is easier than dealing with any of his own bullshit.

[highinthemiddle]

"...Same."

At least he's not alone in that.

"I think I forgot..."

He trails off, shaking his head. There are a lot of things he'd forgotten.

[goddamngrenades]

"...what it was like to feel normal?" For a little bit. To have someone. To have anyone at all, honestly. York scrubs at his face and pats whatever part of Ohio's closest. "...thanks. For. You know."