Before It's Voiced

Epic

Hello, friends, it's been a while, hasn't it? Here's the next chapter, I'm so sorry for the wait! Thank you all for reading, even when I take forever <3

Love to chaotic-panda for beta'ing

(Also! If you have a tumblr, das-verlorene-kind has drawn the most beautiful fanart of Mertrick and Pete. Please go check it out and give her some love-- she deserves it so much <3)

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epic

noun

a long narrative poem written in elevated style, in which heroes of great historical or legendary importance perform valorous deeds. The setting is vast in scope, covering great nations, the world, or the universe, and the action is important to the history of a nation or people.

Pete wakes with nothing but the numbing memory of ice-cold darkness around his throat. It's a sensation he's familiar with, if not fond of. The fact that there's anything powerful enough to still his words for just one moment— to cease his breaths for just a second, to calm and quell his soul for just one broken heartbeat— is a fact he's always tried to capture on the page. Even now, his skin feels cool and breaths brush through his being like the gentlest of waves— so gentle, in fact, that it's almost as if they're not there at all.

He sinks a bit deeper into this strange sleep, this not quite awake moment of consciousness. Something delicate cradles him as he twists into the emptiness; something simple caresses his skin.

And someone's hands find his shoulder; someone's voice calls his name.

"Pete," they plead, the word bubbling across him in a way that causes his nose to wrinkle. "Pete, please, wake up."

He is awake, he's sure, though he's not so certain he'd like to be. It's been so long since he's felt so at peace and the tone of this person's voice only promises panic and distress.

"Pete, please!"

The last word cracks, shatters like a wave against ruthless sand, and Pete feels no choice but to open his eyes.

Blue greets him, a lustrous shade caught between fear and gold. He watches the colors dance before him, crossing his body and face like light caught beneath water, and it takes him three more heartbeats to put a name to what he's seeing.

Patrick.

The world falls in on him with all the intensity of a tidal wave, eyes widening as he takes in the sight of Patrick— Patrick, Patrick, his Patrick— fussing over him. He's murmuring to himself, a detail important enough to cause Pete's heart to skip, and brushing his hands across Pete's chest as if checking for wounds. Pete grasps his wrist to pause his ministrations, grinning when Patrick finds his eyes open.

"Pete!" He cries out, his voice more lovely than before, shimmering like music through glass. "Pete, thank the stars!"

He takes Pete's face in his hands without a thought or warning, pressing cool lips against Pete's own.

"I was terrified," Patrick says against his mouth, refusing to part for any longer than necessary. "I thought I lost you when you did that."

"Did what?" Pete asks, falling into the kiss like it's a breath of fresh air. "I don't remember what—"

"When you fell into the water," Patrick says, pressing their foreheads together. He trails a finger down Pete's cheek, holding tightly to the back of his neck with his other hand. "Next time, tell me your plans?"