𝐖𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍. ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʰᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍᵗᵒⁿ ¹

034

    Steve pulled her towards him.

    He pulled her into his chest and buried her there in warmth and safety. His hand placed itself on the back of her head— and the feeling of it resting there, firmly and protective, brought her back to reality. Her cheek was pressed to his chest and her hands wrapped around his body, knuckles clutching his jacket like her life depended on it— because in a sense, it did. She could feel his chest rising and falling against her head and she could hear his heartbeat at her ear.

    As the demodogs scurried past them at lightening speed, she shut her eyes for a moment and listened to the sound of his heart. It calmed her nerves as the slimy beasts collided with the back of her knees and as the gusts of wind froze her legs. Thump, thump, thump. Racing heart. But even though it was racing uncontrollably, it gave her a sense of comfort she'd never known— and suddenly she wanted to stand there forever and just listen to it until she could breathe normally again and until all the fear washed away. She thought back to his pulse, when she checked it in the living room, how it sounded the very same now.

    She opened her eyes at the last moment to see the last demodog. It scurried around the corner and out of view. The roaring distanced. No more gusts of wind. No more stampeding footsteps. They were all gone. Her heart slipped back down to her chest when the last one rounded the corner, beating firmly where it was supposed to. Her hands stopped shaking on Steve's back by a little bit. Her eyes were still struck wide, but instead of panic coursing through them, it was relief. They weren't dead.

    They were there, the two of them, standing in the center of those wretched tunnels, holding onto one another in the darkness.

    "Lori," Steve finally whispered, his voice coming out breathless and strained as he swallowed, hard. He was still breathing heavier than ever, her head rising against his chest with each rapid inhale. He dropped the bat to the ground. 

    Carefully, his hand moved from the back of her head to the side of her face, his other hand, now free, placing on the other side. He pulled back from her slightly, pulling her head away from resting against his chest— so that he could see her.

    "Are you okay?" his voice rose to a panic as he tilted her head up, eyes trailing frantically over every inch of her face. "Are you hurt? Did they touch you? Are you okay?"

    Lori's eyes traveled up to his face in the dark. His beautiful, soft face that she adored. His eyes were frantic as they darted all over her, looking down at her body and her legs, searching for some sign of hurt.

    "I'm fine," she whispered reassuringly. That caught his attention, and his eyes finally met hers. "I'm fine, Steve. I'm okay."

    He let out a sharp breath of relief and pulled her in again. His hand was on the back of her head again, keeping her safely in his arms. His other arm wrapped around her waist, tightly. Enveloped in the relief that she was okay. She relished that breath of relief he let out, and a small smile pulled at the corner of her lips. She was fine. She was okay. Everything was okay now. Everything was over.

    "Oh my god, thank god," he whispered onto the top of her head. "Jesus Christ."

    "Are you okay?" she murmured into his chest. He had been so worried about her, not even expecting anything back from it. That nearly made her tear up. "Steve."

    He nodded slowly with his eyes shut tight, her head moving with his.

    They stood like that for what seemed like hours to Lori, but what really was only a few moments. The kids relaxed up above on the dirt, letting out exhales of relief.