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Grim Wolf
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Aching head on the tile floor, naked to the world and tears dripping to the floor, Raidon felt as though he could sink no lower.

His finger was burning, and Simon was dead.

Hands closed around his head and pulled him forwards. He stiffened at the unexpected touch, but then relaxed as he came to rest against something soft. He tensed again when her fingers ran along his wound, wincing and pulling away. Her touch immediately became softer, and almost against his will he leaned back against her.

His finger was burning, and Simon was dead.

Fingers through his hair, pulling gently at the roots, and he found her touch as comforting as he had found it the first time. He stayed silent, welcoming the momentary respite from his thoughts, welcoming a chance for even a fleeting moment without terror and doubt and self-hate.

Silence. Sweet, empty silence.

"We should get you an ice pack," she said, after several seconds had passed. "Bandages, maybe. You're bleeding."

Bleeding? From where? His head? It had been a hard fall, no doubt of that, but it didn't feel that bad, and the pain was already somewhat less. Maybe there was still blood from his-

His finger was gone, and Simon was-

"I missed you."

Sweet, soft words. They didn't shock Raidon, didn't make him stiffen or pull away, didn't change him. They were subtle; they slipped through the layers of self-inflicted torment and made him pause.

He lifted his head off her chest and stood up clumsily, still a little dizzy. "I doubt we'll find ice," he mumbled. "And I'm...I'm feeling better already." She looked doubtful, and Raidon shook his head. A little pain, a little dizziness--nothing he couldn't handle.

"I've..." he started, standing there uneasily. "I..." Missed you? Had he? He'd been the one who left, how could he miss her?

"I've been thinking," he said simply. "Of you."
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