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    Summary

    Thomas shifted slowly, hauling himself upright on shaky hands to rest his head against Vincent’s shoulder, staving off the wave of vertigo with a groan. His head was curled up into Vincent’s collar as they sat on the cold marble floor, lit by the faraway light of a bedside lamp. Vincent ran a gentle hand across Thomas’s back in smoothing circles, whispering calming words into his ear as he held Thomas close to his chest.

    Thomas’s breath hitched with the stress of the early hour: overwhelmed, in pain, and utterly miserable. The burning tears began to fall. Vincent stroked a hand down Thomas’s face, attempting to dry his tears with gentle fingers until his hand grew damp from the falling tears.

    “I’m here now, I’m here. I won’t leave you. I’m right here, mi amor.”

     

    [Or; Thomas is taken ill in the night. Vincent looks after him. Domesticity ensues.]

    Language:
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