Reflects on whether things would be simpler for Louis if he'd followed through on his intent to release him properly. To have hated him alongside all the rest. But what can he say? Love is a curse.
And he steals comfort from the hand in his face, leaning into it, turning his face to brush his lips against Louis' palm, and breathes through the last shudders that had gripped his lungs, his heart. "None of you should have been," murmured there. It's their turn to hurt, he'd said, a declaration flung out to the audience.
Inviting their complicity. Their abuse. Riling them.
"We need rest," he adds, a breath out that is close to a laugh, but never makes it. Again, coaxing Louis into coffin. But it's daylight outside, the sun pressing against the windows. Staying out in it will do them no good.
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Reflects on whether things would be simpler for Louis if he'd followed through on his intent to release him properly. To have hated him alongside all the rest. But what can he say? Love is a curse.
And he steals comfort from the hand in his face, leaning into it, turning his face to brush his lips against Louis' palm, and breathes through the last shudders that had gripped his lungs, his heart. "None of you should have been," murmured there. It's their turn to hurt, he'd said, a declaration flung out to the audience.
Inviting their complicity. Their abuse. Riling them.
"We need rest," he adds, a breath out that is close to a laugh, but never makes it. Again, coaxing Louis into coffin. But it's daylight outside, the sun pressing against the windows. Staying out in it will do them no good.