1 Work by corestellations
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Summary
The swordsman kneeled next to where they laid, not unlike a fairytale. His lips hovering inches above theirs, and just when it's about to make contact-
“Arthur…!”
Void-touched eyes snapped open, the spring morning sun blinding in their eyes. This is the fourth dream about him this week, the same one on repeat every night after his message. Every morning they've awakened, with his name hanging off their slightly agape lips like a prayer that would never be spoken outside the realm of dreams.
“I have to tell him… Somehow…” They cupped their face in their hands, curling up to a fetal position into the rough canvas material of the couch. They wanted- no- needed to see that dream resolved, ideally in reality. To cup his stubbled face in their hands, that roughened gaze softening as they peppered small kisses along his jaw, and finally pressing his lips onto theirs-
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in which the Drifter finds a mysterious CD, with a song leading to Arthur crawling to the Drifter metaphorically, and the Drifter crawling to Arthur literally.