"So — I should be dead," Cash said, tone sounding almost matter-of-fact, and his eyebrows were raised but there wasn't much surprise on his face. He should have died last month, or maybe he should have died a long time ago — he sometimes felt like a ghost, but it was one thing to feel that, and another to hear people don't survive this. (Oh, he thought — this was the nervousness he hadn't been able to access a moment ago, now that he was facing the fact of it. He should be dead, and he wasn't, and — neither of them knew where to go from here, did they? So maybe it was inevitable, maybe he'd just chased it off for a moment, but — he didn't want to die.)
Cash pushed a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said, "That's — okay." It was distinctly not okay, but only one of them could freak out at a time, so he was trying to keep himself tethered, and if that meant standing still here with his hands in his pockets and worrying at the inside of his lip in between words, that was fine. "We'll figure it out."
Well. They would figure it out or — he would die.
Cash pushed a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said, "That's — okay." It was distinctly not okay, but only one of them could freak out at a time, so he was trying to keep himself tethered, and if that meant standing still here with his hands in his pockets and worrying at the inside of his lip in between words, that was fine. "We'll figure it out."
Well. They would figure it out or — he would die.
MJ made this!