Dean Thomas (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} artistdean) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
Dean couldn't breathe. The gasps he was getting in just weren't enough. He wanted desperately to reach out for Seamus, but the thought alone was enough to make his breathing even jerkier. And Seamus' tone wasn't exactly encouraging as it usually was either and he kept his hands to himself. Literally. He stuck them back on his own body. One on his stomach, one on his chest. It was a good way of feeling his breaths anyway, even if he'd rather have comforting touches too.
He tried to follow Seamus' instructions head turned to try and see his head from where he was after he had dived off the bed. He didn't want him to leave. He didn't think Seamus would actually do that, but his stomach lurched in fear as Seamus moved nevertheless. He could hear rustling though, and knew he wasn't going, at least not yet. He tried to follow as Seamus gave instructions, and his breathing became a little easier. It wasn't quite right or easy yet, but his chest felt a little less tight. He saw the flames as Seamus lit his candle and his mind calmed a little more. It wouldn't smell immediately no matter how good of a candle he bought, but the smell of spiced apples and oranges he associated with his own flat would permeate the room soon enough.
"Why're," breath, "here?" Dean managed after a minute or two more of careful breathing. Not quite a full sentence, but understandable at least. He honestly wasn't sure why Seamus had appeared. Not that he generally objected to friendly visitors, but Seamus was rarely up before him regardless of the day. And when he was in bed with Seamus or expecting him he usually tried to wear pyjamas, or at least leave his underpants on.