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That injury was fatal.
It’s quiet, the outside world resting in the palm of moonrise. Sand washes across the ocean floor, as restless as the thoughts sifting through Kappa’s brain - He watches through half-lidded eyes, feeling lost, as if something without form or shape has slipped through his fingers. He breathes in deeply, Neth’s words and his own heartbeat echoing in the recess of his skull.
You died.
Kappa doesn’t know what to do with that, exactly. Neth isn’t one to lie or sugarcoat things; if nothing else, he knows by the bandages holding his ribs together that she was telling the truth.
It doesn’t make that burden any softer, though.
Kappa exhales harshly, leaning back into the mattress, where Siren has an arm tangled in his hair, messily protective. His other hand traps Kappa’s against his chest, their fingers slotted together. Siren is warm, and close, and alive - Kappa pushes further into his chest, flattening their joined hands over Siren’s heart, listening intently for the reminder of life, of love.
Siren hasn’t stopped holding him since they first woke up, always with a hand over his shoulders, waist, neck, spine. It’s grounding; Kappa lets himself cling to Siren, grateful for the comfort; Siren clasps him tightly in return. Something about a near-death experience has made them terrified to breathe without the other.
Kappa is almost too scared to breathe at all.
It’s with this dangerous article of thought that Kappa’s chest suddenly gapes like an open wound, hollowing out like a black hole - empty, empty, empty. He’s cold all over, lonely in the icy spotlight of mortality and it hurts, a terrible, gnawing sensation that almost makes him nauseous. Is this what it’s like to be dead?
He clamps his teeth together, swallowing a whimper, and knocks his forehead against Siren’s collarbone. There’s warmth there; flesh and blood and undying love - Kappa breathes it in, greedy for the life Siren offers, pressing his hand hard against his chest as if that will slow the keen, saltwater ache in his heart.
“Siren,” he begs quietly, and startles when Siren’s eyes immediately flick open, somber and tender and dim with stress.
“Can’t sleep?” Siren asks him, winding his fingers through the hair at Kappa’s nape.
“I didn’t know you were awake.” Kappa murmurs. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Siren gives him an unsteady smile. He presses a kiss to Kappa’s wild scrub of hair, murmuring something soft against his head. It’s probably meant to be comforting, and it is, at surface level, but Kappa still feels ghostly and undead. His chest burns with cold, and his eyes well with unspeakable tears, the cave becoming blurry from the pressure of water against his face.
Death feels all too similar to panic, Kappa thinks numbly. God, please make it stop. He squeezes Siren’s hand, and tries not to drown in his own personal apocalypse.
“Siren—”
“You’re all clammy,” Siren’s brow is scrunched up with worry as he tilts Kappa’s face towards him, large hands easily bridging the expanse of his cheekbones. Kappa follows, knocking their faces together gracelessly, desperate. “Are you okay?”
Kappa’s filter is gone. “Not really.”
“What can I do?” Siren asks him, his voice lined with worry.
“Kiss me, pl—please,” Kappa replies haggardly, and his heart bleeds, raw, under his bandages. Here, they are simply two people who have surfaced from death; two people who have touched the end of the world and breathed beyond it; two people who know nothing but each other and endless skin. Kappa pleads his case against Siren’s lips.
“Make me feel alive.”
“Kappa,” Siren exhales, lips skimming across his temple. Kappa closes his eyes and lets Siren’s hands wash over him. Each touch is a mission, undercover and desperate; they exchange words in breaths, as if a secret language only they know.
Kappa gasps into Siren’s mouth, mind buzzing with ecstasy. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, he can only register Siren settling two strong hands on his waist, thumbs dipping over his hips, hard enough to leave dark fingerprints later. All of his nerves burn, like gasoline scorching the surface of the water, unnatural yet persistent, and Kappa feels the insane urge to expose his skin to a maelstrom of fire.
“Yes, yes, please, I— it’s perfect, you’re perfect,” Kappa babbles nonsensically. He shudders when Siren’s sharp teeth graze over his neck, teasing his gills with the slightest bit of pressure.
This is everything he needed: Siren, kissing love onto every piece of his broken soul. Kappa feels his borrowed heart beating under his bandages, and this time he welcomes it, relishing the way his pulse rushes down to his wrists and up into his ears.
Siren moves with him, body folding around Kappa gently as he pulls him close, sliding a rough hand over Kappa’s bony shoulder-blade. He takes his time, feather-light touches guiding Kappa’s chin to draw the kiss deeper and deeper still.
In the space between their lips, Siren whispers prayers, spilling quiet worship into Kappa’s skin: “You’re here” and “We’re okay” and “I’ve got you” and “You’re beautiful” make a song of praise, patched over their wounds: scars: hearts.
Siren says these things, and kisses him slow and kind, and reveres him like a man - like a lover. Kappa kind of wants to cry.
He buries his face against Siren’s collarbone to hide the noise that escapes him, chest falling with uneven breaths. His mouth tastes like red wine: easy, rich, liquid velvet, tinted with unknowing sweetness and the terrible visage of blood.
Their love has always been bloodier than most.
Kappa feels drunk on it, drunk on Siren, momentarily blinded by fear. Siren’s heart thumps against his own, a flashback of affection, adrenaline, yes - but firstly, a fundamental reminder of all that they’ve lost.
“What’s wrong?” Siren asks immediately, leaning back an inch to peer down at him. Kappa can feel the vibrations of his voice, and he can hear the thrum Siren’s concern in his chest, firsthand. “Did I hurt you? Was that too fast? Too much?”
“No,” Kappa replies softly, voice oddly steady. He draws a heart on Siren’s shoulder. His fingers twitch anxiously. “I just got overwhelmed, I think.”
“Sorry,” Siren says, forlorn, his voice hiding a cesspool of guilt. He loosens his grip, drawing away.
“No—” Kappa reacts instinctively, holding onto Siren’s waist, crowding close. “No, I didn’t mean— Please stay, I just—” he swallows, shivering in the wake of a passing current, vulnerable, “You’re everything. You’re everything to me. You’re so alive, Siren.”
Siren tucks a hand around Kappa’s neck, and he relaxes minutely at the reassurance, but Siren hums above him, still uncertain. “What do you mean?”
“I mean— you’re… alive. You’re lively, you’re vibrant, you’re strong, you’re bright, you’re kind, you’re warm, you’re the person who makes the world sing, I love you,” Kappa breathes, in a rush. His eyes glimmer precariously, and he gulps against the pressure of tears, tripping over his words. “I love you. Oh my god I love you. You’re like— you’re my own beacon.”
“I love you too. So much,” Siren replies, voice cracking along the edges of his smile. His eyes crease in affection, and he brushes a thumb over Kappa’s cheek, catching the overflow of tears. His chest rises with a laugh, sad and a little confused. “Why are we crying, then?”
“Because,” Kappa tries, leaning against Siren’s sturdy chest, “because I love you. Because we love each other. And everything was so good, it was the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.” He squeezes Siren’s hand, feeling the other card comforting fingers through his hair.
“And then… and then we died, and I was so scared,” Kappa’s voice drops, hushed, as though he’s admitting to a terrible sin. “I was scared that I ruined you by loving you so much.”
“Never,” Siren jumps in, “You could never ruin me. The way I feel about you…” he pauses, pressing a hard kiss to Kappa’s curls, “it eats me alive. I love you more than the whole ocean, Kappa, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
Siren’s palms suddenly engulf his face, and then Kappa is being kissed with the force of a thousand seas. He melts in Siren’s hold and tucks his own lingering heartburn under his ribs as he tips his head up into the kiss, shameless in his desire.
They pull apart, Kappa panting for breath. Siren’s hands don’t leave his face, and Kappa keeps his eyes closed as Siren speaks. “Listen to me, okay? Nothing that happens to me is ever your fault. I wouldn’t trade loving you for anything. Anything.”
“Okay,” Kappa says, exhausted. He leans in, bumping their noses together in a vague approximation of their first kiss, and leaves his lips on the corner of Siren’s mouth. “Okay. I trust you.”
Siren smiles, a real one this time; Kappa can feel the curve of his grin. “Are you better now?”
“I still don’t feel entirely alive,” he admits. “It doesn’t feel the same as before.” Before the tragedy, before the resurrection.
“Yeah,” Siren sighs, silent understanding. He rubs small circles over Kappa’s heart, careful not to disturb the bandages.
“You help, though,” Kappa offers, tone lighter. “Being around you is… good.”
“I’m glad,” Siren smiles, and smoothes his hand over Kappa’s knuckles. “Y'know, even with all the witchy magic stuff, you still have my heart.”
Kappa’s lips quirk up at his boyfriend’s words, flattered, a blush darkening his cheeks. “You’re so—dumb.”
Siren looks at him with the utmost tenderness, face quietly gleaming with the warmth of summertime and gentle honeysuckle and butterflies that consume Kappa’s stomach.
“My love,” he says, and Kappa feels the purple arms of magic that are binding his bones together falter, his heart skipping a beat, “you are what makes me feel alive.”
And Kappa breathes.
I love you goes unsaid as Siren learns the shape of Kappa’s gasps when he mouths over the hollow of his collarbone, and they kiss until it’s not enough; until their lips are slick with red wine and raspberry bruises; until their skin screams with shared pleasure; until the morning sun breaches the cave where they lay entangled together;
until they are alive.