Hans Larsson

Bjorn just nodded, wincing at the image of Rekker opening up his arm. He didn't want to dwell on that image because it made him sick. He felt his stomach flip inside of him as he breathed out slowly. Just the whole emotion of it all washing over him like a bad drug trip which this was. The blond Swede near gasped when he felt his forearm being pulled. Eyes wide, Bjorn just allowed the ginger to pull his arm and wondered what he wanted. Did he require closeness? Touch from another to fill the void of pain?

"Rekker---"

The Swede grabbed with his hand and felt warm flesh beneath. An arm? Through the haze of the high and his tears, Bjorn knew he was holding onto the Brit in some capacity and it felt good. Very good. His heart began hammering even faster in his chest and he couldn't comprehend the feelings that were going through him right now.