Chapter Text
He’d taken too many breaths. Panicked gasps after coming out of stasis. Slow inhalations in the aftermath of tragedy. Berathe in, bleed out, but he would always heal.
Sometimes he wanted to hold his breath forever. A futile protest against his circumstances and biology.
‘Breathe, sweetheart.’
He’d heard her say those words so many times. He didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to keep going.
But he finally exhaled, and his next breath tasted like her perfume.
‘That’s better.’ Rouge leaned forward and gave him a satisfied grin. ‘If you don’t breathe, how can you say “I love you?”’
