Alexander stops stunned when the door opens. An undignified scramble to his feet follows, and he clutches his jacket to himself, dusty and bloodied as it is. It seems disrespectful, somehow, to just be in shirt-sleeves.
"-- and I know not precisely why."
Alexander must restrain himself from darting past Ned. From flinging himself to Aaron's side. His husband smells of desperation and fear, anger and grief and horror. It's Jefferson's fault, he knows it. Somehow, it's Jefferson's fault. The one man who can wound them both.
He kneels by the bed, pushing Ned's stool away, and carefully takes Aaron's hand in both of his. Kisses Aaron's knuckles, once, briefly.
"Don't leave me," he pleads, soft. "Please don't leave me." His pride is withdrawn, dead and shriveled and crackling in him. Not like this, not like this; he can't lose Aaron like this.
no subject
"-- and I know not precisely why."
Alexander must restrain himself from darting past Ned. From flinging himself to Aaron's side. His husband smells of desperation and fear, anger and grief and horror. It's Jefferson's fault, he knows it. Somehow, it's Jefferson's fault. The one man who can wound them both.
He kneels by the bed, pushing Ned's stool away, and carefully takes Aaron's hand in both of his. Kisses Aaron's knuckles, once, briefly.
"Don't leave me," he pleads, soft. "Please don't leave me." His pride is withdrawn, dead and shriveled and crackling in him. Not like this, not like this; he can't lose Aaron like this.