It pulses evenly against her palm, in quick, uneven beats. Thump, thump, thud. Pause. Thump, thump, thud.
The cloth of his shirt muffles the irregular beats, yet they're still there, pushing against her palm, begging to be released. He's asleep but his heart is still awake, forever pumping sweet, sweet blood through his body. She clutches the skin desperately, holding his heart in her hand. It's where it belongs, after all. With her.
Thump, thump, thud.
It's the rhythm of his life - strange and unbalanced and hard against her hand. She holds her hand there for a moment longer, strains her ears to hear the song it makes.
She'll never say a word - never tell a soul, not even him, or even whisper it aloud to herself - but she's afraid, deathly afraid. She's absolutely terrified that she'll carry his heart and drop it, shatter into a million little shards of ache. She's terrified she'll hurt him.
They fight often. That's their problem, the fighting. They whisper and shout and say terrible words and hurtful things yet at the end of the day - well, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. At the end of the day, they're crazy about each other.
But they fight, still.
Her hand is pressed roughly against his chest, as she tries to push him away from her, out of spite and anger and frustration. But she doesn't. She keeps her hand there, firmly digging her nails into the skin, and feels his heart beating in loud beats.
As long as his heart is beating, as long as he's breathing, as long as she can feel the uneven pulses against her hand - he'll be hers.
That's the sound of his heart on that day. Beep... beep. Thump... thump... thump.
Slow and even and exact, precise. What a cold hospital room, a white hospital room; it smells of blood and death and she can taste the bitter air.
She gently holds his heart in her hand, carefully resting her palm above his chest. His eyes are closed and his breathing is slow and labored, each breath a painful rasp. Yet still, his heart beats, his blood pulses.
His eyes open - just a little - and then flutter closed again, his hand lifting to rest on hers. Together, they hold his heart.
Together, they wait until it stops beating.
A/N: Sad!PQ is sad.