bending_sickle | Death leaves a heartache no one can heal*

Nanowrimo, Day 7: \o/ Still no snarkiness, but there's a lot of angst and UST, so that's a plus.

Excerpt:

"No. No, wait," he said, his voice sounding strange and trapped. He tried to take a step back but Icarus’ hands were still on his hips. "What are you doing?"

The angel looked up at him, a furrow on his brow. "I’m helping," he said.

Oh God, Icarus, you’re doing anything but, thought Chip, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. He stilled Icarus’ hand and pushed them off, if not off his hips then at least off his skin, down onto denim.

"I can get undressed just fine."

Icarus looked up at Chip through stubborn strands that fell over his forehead and where something broken and confused and aching inside Chip expected to find brown eyes - God, baby, I miss you - there were blue eyes instead.

"I know." Icarus dropped his hands from Chip’s sides. "I thought I was helping."

11782 / 50000 words. 24% done!

* Anon. (from a headstone in Ireland)