The instant life hits Ranboo's body, Dirk feels it. Not through any innate sense or intuition, though. He's lost time again, gazing disconnectedly into Ranboo's lifeless stare. But then it's like time reverses. Ranboo's lungs seize, demanding breath; their chest heaves, their eyes move and see, and Dirk is jolted from his fugue by the lightningbolt of living. He jerks back like a startled cat, narrowly avoiding collision with the mess occupying his bed around them (vomit, blood, a severed head) and watches intently as consciousness seeps into Ranboo... and then the tears begin to flow.
It's a shock, really. Dirk's first thought is I thought he was stronger than this.
Then he thinks He is stronger than that. He is. Dirk knows. He's seen it, Ranboo lives because of it. He's free because he's strong. He just doesn't know how to use it.
Most of this knowledge never really takes conscious form, though. Not before he's moving to close the brief gap between him and Ranboo--his hands move with speed and precision, taking them by the face. His calloused palms pressing against tear-stained cheeks, warm fingers splayed to thread into hair, thumbs firm on their cheekbones, just beneath their swollen, red-ringed eyes.
He holds them there, not-quite-gentle but by no means cruel, inches from his face as he forces eye contact--his shades are off so there's no barrier between Ranboo's greenish eyes and Dirk's own piercing, almost unblinking orange.
"Ranboo. Hey. Ranboo. Stop crying and wake up in there."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-11-21 11:36 am (UTC)It's a shock, really. Dirk's first thought is I thought he was stronger than this.
Then he thinks He is stronger than that. He is. Dirk knows. He's seen it, Ranboo lives because of it. He's free because he's strong. He just doesn't know how to use it.
Most of this knowledge never really takes conscious form, though. Not before he's moving to close the brief gap between him and Ranboo--his hands move with speed and precision, taking them by the face. His calloused palms pressing against tear-stained cheeks, warm fingers splayed to thread into hair, thumbs firm on their cheekbones, just beneath their swollen, red-ringed eyes.
He holds them there, not-quite-gentle but by no means cruel, inches from his face as he forces eye contact--his shades are off so there's no barrier between Ranboo's greenish eyes and Dirk's own piercing, almost unblinking orange.
"Ranboo. Hey. Ranboo. Stop crying and wake up in there."