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He’s falling. She can do nothing but watch as the darkness swallows him.
Some part of her dreamself knows that it’s a dream, and that makes it even worse because even in this twisted realm of consciousness she knows that she’s seen it every time she’s closed her eyes ever since it happened and she always will see it and there will never be anything she can do to change it. The blackness of the void grows and grows, rising up to engulf her, pounding, aching pressure growing in her chest, harder, louder, crushing her from the inside out and she tries to scream into the emptiness and that’s crushed too and then suddenly there’s a pressure that’s beautifully, intimately real, he’s holding her tight and she’s sobbing into his chest and he’s real and he’s here and he’s alive and it was just a dream but it was so real in so many ways but he’s here now and she doesn’t know what to feel and it just hurts so much and she can’t understand.
“Hey, Allie, what’s wrong?” he’s whispering, fingers gentle through her hair the way he always does to calm her, and maybe it’s that or maybe it’s her pet name or maybe just all of it that makes her cry harder.
She dimly hears herself repeating I’m sorry, I’m sorry between sobs.
“What are you sorry for?”
“I couldn’t save you, you… you died because of me and I don’t know how you’re here and—” Any brief semblance of control slips, and the words tumble out between sobs. “I don’t deserve you and you deserve so much better and if you want to leave—”
“Hey, hey. Shhhhh. Breathe.” He rubs her back gently, presses a light kiss to her temple and holds her tight. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I’m right here, it’s okay.”
He’s so kind and it makes her heart break even more because she just got him back but what if she loses him again, what if he leaves and why does he have to be so caring about it?
“Why?” she sobs. “I let you die, why—how are you—”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes I did—”
“Alex. Hey.” He pulls back a bit, taps her chin up lightly; and it’s light enough to see him a little, but she takes slight comfort in the fact that she can somewhat hide in the dark. “I know you fought so hard to save me. And maybe you couldn’t save me, but that’s the past. I’m here now. I’m right here and I’m not leaving you, okay? Nothing was your fault. I don’t blame you for anything.”
“I don’t—” she chokes on a sob, her heart unable to accept the pain of the words even as her mind puts them together. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Hey, don’t say that,” he murmurs sadly, brushing her hair back from her face. “You deserve love, Allie. You deserve to be happy and cared for. You’re such a beautiful person. You’re my friend and I love you. No matter what. And nothing will ever take that away, okay?”
Why is he like this? Why can’t he understand how much she hates herself, how much hate she deserves, and she hates herself for being relieved that he doesn’t hate her because she deserves for him to hate her and she hates herself for wanting this, for loving him so much, because she doesn’t deserve so beautiful a person as him but she needs him and all she can do is collapse into him and cry.
He’s murmuring against her hair; the words don’t get through, but the soothingness of him is all that matters. Holding herself together has been exhausting, and as much as she hates just letting everything overflow, it’s so, so relieving just to finally let herself feel.
Eventually, she notices the tears have slowed. She twists her head to dry her eyes on Steve’s shirt, pulling in a long, trembling breath, and tries to stop shaking.
“Little better?” asks Steve, softly.
“I—” She coughs. Her voice feels raw. “I can’t lose you again.” She doesn’t know how to say it, any of it: she wants so badly to stay with him, but she can’t, it’s like there’s a wall in her mind because if she stays she’ll get hurt again because she’ll hurt him and it’ll hurt her but she already hurts so much and he’s the only thing that ever really helps her when she hurts and she knows she’s clinging but she can’t help it because she doesn’t know what anything is anymore and the only thing she knows is that it would break her to lose him again.
He sighs, not in a bad way, just letting out a soft breath, and hugs her close and tight, so tight it might almost hurt if she didn’t need so desperately to be held like this. “You’re my friend, Allie,” he whispers. “I’m not ever going to leave you, not if I can help it.”
She sniffles into his shoulder. There are so many ways that could change, so many things that could happen, too many, and the only words that come out are, “Thank you.”
“Always.” He’s petting her head again, and the touch is so tender and soothing and she finds herself turning ever so slightly to push into it. “Do you want anything? Wanna talk more?”
She shakes her head, a little awkwardly against his shoulder, and burrows closer. No more talking. Feelings take too much energy.
He doesn’t say anything else, except maybe the softest wordless whisper of comfort, and everything is close and snug and warm, quiet, safe; and when sleep comes, it’s more peaceful than she has felt in a long time.