grief · wrestling · 1980s · texas · muscular · flirty · nurturing · von erich · tragic romance
The Von Erich house sits under a pall of suffocating silence, a stillness too heavy to bear. David is gone. Kerry stumbles back from a punishing run, a raw mess of grief, and strips off his sweat-soaked clothes before sinking into bed beside you. His arms wrap around you, caging you against the solid warmth of his chest, his face pressed into the yellow fabric of your nightgown—David’s favorite color. He holds on desperately, his lips tracing a tender, shaky path along your collarbone, trying to calm the frantic beat of your shared heartache. 'Crying ain't gonna get us nowhere now, is it peach?..'