Work Text:
Drowning.
That's what it felt like. Like you were drowning in thin air, struggling against some uncontrollable force of nature. The walls closing in around you, a heavy pressure growing in your chest that spread to your ribs, relentlessly pushing down. Crushing them, fragments of bone splitting away with every breath. Each inhale-exhale bringing pain, measures beyond the physical. Your body had bore the burnt - your mind paid the price.
Gentle hands worked to undo the ropes that bound you, unwinding each knot with slow moves, cautious and diligent. Careful not to abrade already damaged skin. Weary of the red, angry marks that were beginning to bloom like spring daisies on every joint in your body. They loosened more and more with every passing second - but those seconds made you feel more and more caged in. Staring blankly at the ruffled bedsheets, damped from sweat borne of an hour of hard labour. Borne of love and lust and desire and...
Dip. Dip. Dip.
...tears.
You hadn't even realised you were crying, so lost in the fog of all-consuming misery, held hostage in the cold black. A thousand miles away; physically present, mentally elsewhere.
The ropes fell away, a satisfied sigh heard over your shoulder as they were tossed to the bedroom floor to be dealt with later. Ghost's lips parted as he turned back towards you, the joke that burned the tip of his tongue snuffed out the moment his eyes found you. Frozen, still kneeling in place, arms limply by your side. Crawling across the mattress, he took your chin between his finger and thumb and turned your head to face him. The red-rimmed eyes and quivering lips that greeted him was not entirely surprising. Not unfamiliar, either.
The higher the peak, the harder the drop.
"Oh, sweet girl," Ghost sighed, bringing his free hand to delicately wipe at the streams flowing down your cheeks. "Breathe... breathe. Nice and slow, yeah? Easy..."
You were guided over to the head of the bed, a firm but not demanding touch easing your body down. Head laid on the pillows and hair brushed away, working out the tangles at your scalp. Lips pressed your forehead, quiet words whispered to you that sounded like they were spoken in another distant room, muffled by the rush of blood in your ears. The bed dipped as he left, pausing a moment to switch the TV on, idle noise to fill the silence. The static in your head drowned it out, a spiderweb of thoughts you couldn't sift through, couldn't process but were forced to stew in.
Shame and guilt and fear, filling every groove of your brain like concrete pouring into cracks on a pavement. Overflowing, soon to become a tsunami wave that threatened to overwhelm you as you lay, alone. The two minutes he was absent might as well have been a millennia, for how it felt.
A small glass of orange juice was in his hand when he returned - a straw thoughtfully between his fingers so you weren't forced to sit up - and a hairtie was around his wrist. Two things that were miniscule in the grand scheme, and yet said so much.
"C'mon, baby," Ghost whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, holding the glass steady as he placed the straw between your lips. Soothingly repetitive circles rubbed into your back with his palm as you took small sips. "There you go."
Placing the glass aside, his fingers then combed through your hair, mindful of his own strength as he pulled the knots loose. Both hands gathered your locks into a low bun, scooping up the stray stands that stuck to your nape, still glistening with a light sheen of sweat. "D'you want me to run you a bath? Make you somethin' to eat?"
He noticed your lips part slightly at his question, waiting patiently for you to gather the energy to speak. Returning his touch to your side, caressing you for encouragement, as if trying help to push the words to the surface. Soft brown eyes watching your throat bobbing.
"Can we cuddle?"
A smile and a quiet huff of laughter came in response. Your voice was so quiet, so hesitant, one could assume you were asking for the whole world itself to be laid at your feet. The smattering of red blemishes across the expanse of your body had earned you far more than that as far as Ghost was concerned. Ripping every star out of the sky for you wouldn't even come close to what you deserved. Lying with you was the bare minimum of what he could do, what he would do.
His body filled the emptiness beside you, offering warmth no amount of blankets or any number of hours sitting in a bathtub ever could. A strong arm slipped under your back and lifted with ease, taking the weight of your body atop his. Skin to skin contact. Hearts beating perfectly in sync as stroked your hair, palm passing over the breadth of your back, up and down and back up again. It would be time yet until the thunderstorm passed, your body readjusting to normalcy at its own pace.
"Talk to me, baby. How are you feeling?" Ghost asked. He kept his voice low and you could feel it, the rumble in his chest reverberating in your own.
"Like shit."
There was vulnerability in those two words. Open honesty. There was no sense to be found in lying, in denying yourself the care he could provide. He could see the shimmer of drying tears on your cheeks, eyelashes fluttering as the exhaustion set in - hard. Rest would help. Let the worst of it pass by painlessly. Peaceful recuperation.
"Get some sleep, yeah?" He murmured, this time intending to sound more like a command than a suggestion. "As long as you need to. I'll be right here when you wake up."