God the lighter. The dance. The click spark and flame that had him burning, hand them burning forever. The bass pumping and the vodka sweet and he's there and she's there and MALCOLM is there and they need to not. They can't get caught here so he pushes. Shoves. Drags Carolina back away and Mal to a different club. No lighter. Different music. The night before the night before that lead to the morning of. The mats. Fighting sparring pinning.
Kissing Malcolm and feeling like he's come home. Being kissed BACK and feeling like he's whole.
Like he can see again.
Like he can breathe.
He lingers there for a moment, phantom hands of Carolina curling in his curling in Malcolm's hair. Lips on his ear murmuring encouragement that he, she, they all hear before he draws himself back to the present. In the pod.
Someone with him. Breathing. Whole. He can see.
I'm good. Warm like sunshine, like laughter, like that first shot of bourbon. You with me, Mal?
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Kissing Malcolm and feeling like he's come home. Being kissed BACK and feeling like he's whole.
Like he can see again.
Like he can breathe.
He lingers there for a moment, phantom hands of Carolina curling in his curling in Malcolm's hair. Lips on his ear murmuring encouragement that he, she, they all hear before he draws himself back to the present. In the pod.
Someone with him. Breathing. Whole. He can see.
I'm good. Warm like sunshine, like laughter, like that first shot of bourbon. You with me, Mal?