Remembrance Is All by Agelast

Haunted

Fingon/Maedhros. Teen. Post-Nirnaeth. 

He wakes to a familiar weight on his chest. It is not guilt, shame, or suffering. Well, it is not only those things. What he feels is a familiar angle of hips, and a brief touch of lips, forever lost. Sightless, he reaches to grab -- a braid, just a handful of it. Just this once.

Metal bites hard against the softer flesh of his palm. He pulls hard, waits for a muffled curse, a wry joke.

Anything.

A pair of white hands, with fingers bloodless and chill, trace the line of his jaw. They touch the place over his heart. Only the lightest of touches.

He lets out a shaky breath. Disbelief and longing entangling together. Desperate.

But the apparition recedes into the dark, and is gone.

His voice cracks, uncertain. “Káno?”