[ If not for the flush of contrasting temperature, Krouse wouldn't know when the needle broke skin. He focuses on a point on the ceiling and the sound of his breathing, two fixed references to ground him for whatever happens next.
He's too full of nerves, or too aware of the nerves he has, in the first few seconds before anything starts to happen. It hits him that he can't reverse this now, if he even wanted to. Whatever this will do to him is going to happen, no choice left but to ride it out if it goes wrong.
His stomach churns. The thing on top of it does the same, burrowing down towards his warmth. No hesitation, no fear, no aversion. It reaches for him with the insistence of not knowing any better than to want to be touched.
He hasn't done anything to teach it otherwise. He lets it do it more than he should, even though it only ever goes one way. He thinks he should have told Hannibal that before they got going. He doesn't want him to have the wrong idea about what's been happening. Most of these bruises and bites exist because he invited them.
They feel like they're floating on his skin, or he's floating underneath them. The undersides of lilypads in a sunny pond, or slow clouds in a summer sky.
He's being asked a question. For a hitching split second, he wonders if he won't know how to answer, but words come easily after all. ]
The other part of her.
[ A thumb slides into fabric, searching. It brushes against a tiny grasping talon like a baby bird's. He smiles as it latches on, little claws digging in firmly. ]
Noelle. [ He says her name softly, like it needs to be handled as gently as spun glass. It's the only thing not subject to the slumped slur of the rest of his speech. ] She was...
[ A ripple of discomfort goes across his face, unfocused eyes creasing, but it slips away before he feels it. ]
She was sick. I made it worse. I tried to make it better, but I just kept making it worse. I didn't know how to help her.
[ He lets his head tip sideways, distantly surprised by its weightlessness. He wants this next part to be understood, offered up to those ice chip eyes. ]
cw needles/drug administration, drug use, psychedelics, self harm
He's too full of nerves, or too aware of the nerves he has, in the first few seconds before anything starts to happen. It hits him that he can't reverse this now, if he even wanted to. Whatever this will do to him is going to happen, no choice left but to ride it out if it goes wrong.
His stomach churns. The thing on top of it does the same, burrowing down towards his warmth. No hesitation, no fear, no aversion. It reaches for him with the insistence of not knowing any better than to want to be touched.
He hasn't done anything to teach it otherwise. He lets it do it more than he should, even though it only ever goes one way. He thinks he should have told Hannibal that before they got going. He doesn't want him to have the wrong idea about what's been happening. Most of these bruises and bites exist because he invited them.
They feel like they're floating on his skin, or he's floating underneath them. The undersides of lilypads in a sunny pond, or slow clouds in a summer sky.
He's being asked a question. For a hitching split second, he wonders if he won't know how to answer, but words come easily after all. ]
The other part of her.
[ A thumb slides into fabric, searching. It brushes against a tiny grasping talon like a baby bird's. He smiles as it latches on, little claws digging in firmly. ]
Noelle. [ He says her name softly, like it needs to be handled as gently as spun glass. It's the only thing not subject to the slumped slur of the rest of his speech. ] She was...
[ A ripple of discomfort goes across his face, unfocused eyes creasing, but it slips away before he feels it. ]
She was sick. I made it worse. I tried to make it better, but I just kept making it worse. I didn't know how to help her.
[ He lets his head tip sideways, distantly surprised by its weightlessness. He wants this next part to be understood, offered up to those ice chip eyes. ]
I wanted to help her. More than anything.