Re: Mini-log: Noah NW + Holly NW
Noah's throat was scratched raw, little shavings of skin dangling from the self-inflicted claw marks. But, that would heal. And even though the buzzing was deafening and dangerous, Noah was so fucking happy when he could hear it, closing in like an angry swarm of wasps. He was sobbing, and it was a nauseous mix of relief and terror. His grip on his husband was tight, a sudden stricture of arms around Holly's shoulders.—Most nights, Noah slept in his boxers. For some reason, he'd opted for a t-shirt the night before, and it was stuck to him like a second skin now, soaked with cold sweat. The curls Holly ran his fingers through were damp too.
Noah tried to bury his face in Holly's neck. He let himself curl up in a mostly-fetal position, propped up by Holly, as he gasped and sobbed and gasped. When he could finally manage a word through his gibbering terror, he just said: "What happened?" And he said it like this: "Whatthappenedwhathappenedwhathappened?"