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Does Shadow sleep? Vio doesn’t really know, but he recognizes the gentle rise and fall of his chest, air puffing out of his nose in regular, slow intervals. He can feel heat on his tongue and he intakes a shaky breath. It’s been hard, admittedly, for him to be around Shadow, but he thrusts down the knot in his throat and hopes that perhaps he has forgotten the taste of hatred that still sits heavy on his tongue, gritty and gravelly, the way his voice shook when he demanded his life, bound above broiling lava and he remembers the way his heart broke with every pound against the rock that held him up.
Shadow takes in a deeper breath, holding it for a second too long, making Vio start as he watches with his own breath held tight against his lungs until he hears Shadow exhale again. His head thumps softly against the back of the pillow, a silent sigh escaping his lips.
He should say something.
But... he doesn’t want to be heard. A strange dichotomy, of words wanting to rend their way out of his throat, of wanting to spill forth without any forethought—a foreign and perhaps welcome change. But also, wanting to dam up these feelings that prick so sharp against his heart, the heart he’s wrapped with layer after layer of protection, as if that could heal the hurt beneath without taking the time to pick out the shrapnel that broke it so thoroughly in the first place. He shifts, sitting up with a quiet groan to put his head in his hands, and as he leans forward he can feel another section of his heart cry out as the unspoken words burrow their way in deeper, deeper, poised to snap arteries and veins and Vio doesn’t know what he would do if red started to stain through his careful wrapped linens.
He feels a breath chill in his lungs and he waits, and he waits. He doesn’t know how high or low the moon is in the sky—time has gone silent as he thinks, as he teases out what he would want to say to him, what words to meet his narrowing eyes and that way his jaw tightens ever so slightly whenever he says his name. What emotion would he be met with? He hopes forgiveness, he pleads love, because there’s no way that the way his heart sings whenever he sees him is only a lonely solo. He watches Shadow’s hair shimmer slightly in what little wind can make it to this place. He watches his breath puff against the soft, silky pillow. He watches the way his limbs still twitch against the heavy-gentle wrap of comforters, the way his spine doesn’t snap against this mattress, unlike the hard lines of his hips and shoulders he remembers seeing fighting against the hard ground when he- when he...
“I’m sorry,” Vio whispers. His voice trembles, and he’s glad that Shadow is most surely asleep at this point. He hates flaying himself open so raw, to unwrap his heart and let it sit heavy in his throat. He feels a silver tear track down his cheek before he realizes he’s crying, chest heaving in regular intervals to steady his sobs and make them as silent as the wind that rushes past them. “I didn’t know,” he murmurs, and against his better judgement, he rests his calloused hand against the heave of Shadow’s shoulder, and he’s glad they aren’t facing each other as they ought to be.
Shadow seems to still further underneath his touch, but Vio thinks he’s imagining the way he can feel muscles taut and creak beneath his fingerpads. He takes a breath through his nose, letting it sigh across his lips before he continues. “I didn’t know how much I would care for you. How close we would grow in such a short amount of time. How everything I thought you were was wrong, and-and how I went through my plan anyway. You didn’t deserve to have that trust broken. I’m sorry.”
Vio shifts uncomfortably, a low whine escaping the back of his throat. “I don’t know how long it will take for you to forgive me,” he says, voice rough-low with emotions he’s not sure what to name clashing in his throat. “I would understand if you did not want to but I...” Vio stills, and he makes sure Shadow’s breathing is still even and slow before letting himself bare his heart open for the first time since that day long ago. “I love you,” he whispers hoarsely. “I love you. I started to love you the day we finally met, when I realized that you weren’t a monster, just forgotten, and I wished I would have wrapped my arms around you and told you that I loved you then. Maybe it would not have been so long then, between here and now. Maybe we would have found a different way, one that did not require for you to be gone for so long. I’m sorry for my stubbornness. I thought I knew best then, but you... you really made me question everything, what I assumed was forever true and what was always wrong. I guess I was scared, to deviate off my path,” Vio laughs quietly, honey-sweet with no one to hear it, so of course it did not actually happen. “You made me question everything. You made me think about what I wanted, rather than what I thought I wanted. But, I think I know the answer now.”
He wonders what Shadow would say to all this, if he was awake and able to hear him pick himself apart, to unfold and unravel himself so thoroughly, so absolutely. “I want you near me,” Vio says quietly. “I want your touch. I want you to love me back. I want you to feel for me the way I do for you. I love you, Shadow. I love you so much.”
He feels something pull out of his chest, and he sighs happily. He feels lighter, softer, than he has in a while. He squeezes Shadow’s shoulder, before removing his hand and wriggling his way back down into the blankets. “I hope you’ll love me back,” he whispers before closing his eyes, and soon enough his breath slows and stills as he finally falls asleep, quiet and dreamless.
He can’t see it, but Shadow smiles gently next to him, the hard lines on his face finally softening.