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Snippet #2790584

located in Greythorne, a part of safe harbour, one of the many universes on RPG.

Greythorne

None

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Character Portrait: Alex Garcia Character Portrait: Oliver Brennan
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A l e x Garcia
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Alex didn't know what to expect- and wasn't expecting anything, to be honest- but he didn't exactly expect a hug. Oliver hardly knew him, and the one and only time they'd met before this nightmare of an evening had not been an ideal interaction for either of them. But here they were. For a moment, Alex didn't react other than to rest his head against Oliver; it wasn't long, though, before Alex returned the hug, grabbing a handful of Oliver's shirt as he cried into the fabric.

He let all the fear and the trauma of the night wash over him in the form of tears and sobbing, hoping beyond hope that he could let it out and be done with it. But he felt an all-too-familiar chill, and he knew that it wouldn't be that simple. It never was. There they were: old, malevolent spirits, coming around again to feast on the tears and agony of the living. Of course they were here, they were never far from pain and suffering. They circled the room, drinking it in, letting it make the stronger, keep them rooted in the world. Alex understood it better than he ever had before; everyone needed something to keep them grounded in this world, some were just less pleasant than others.

After a few moments, Alex was able to take in a long, unsteady breath. He sat up straight, pulling back from Oliver's embrace, but he kept a hand settled on the other man's shoulder, almost as if to steady himself. He sat there for a moment, silently staring at a corner of the room. His eyes hurt, and his head was swimming with thoughts of everything he should- and shouldn't- say, how he shouldn't have started crying like that in front of Oliver. He was a little embarrassed, but mostly relieved. "I, uh," his voice was still raw, emotional, as if he might start crying again at any moment, "Thanks." He stared into Oliver's eyes for a moment, maybe longer than appropriate. He couldn't quite find the words to really express what he was feeling, "I almost died tonight." The words sounded strange, felt foreign on his tongue. He licked his lips, and found himself fighting the very real urge to kiss Oliver; he really didn't think it would be appreciated.

Instead, he let Oliver go, wiped his face dry the best he could, and he sighed. "Things are never going to be quite the same around here, are they?" He wasn't really looking for an answer; he didn't need one. He knew that so many people in town, himself included, wouldn't be able to live their lives quite the same way again. His mind briefly wandered to his friends, to Aurora, knowing that some of them had been hurt. He had to wonder if they would've gotten out alright if they hadn't rushed to help him. He tried to push the thoughts from his head, but they unfortunately persisted. They weren't words he would willingly speak aloud, but they were there all the same.

Another thought popped into his head, one that he spoke before he had the sense to think it through, "Shit. You're never going to fuck me now, are you?"