Title: Heaven Has Nothing
Summary: Memories and misery; putting things in perspective.
Ratings/Warnings: R for imagery. Mentions of child abuse, violence, murder. Non-consequential OCs. Character death inextricably involved.
Notes: Weird and contrived style, for which I apologize.
Moment: your pain is mine
he expects daniel to talk and leave, to disappear from his consciousness like he always does and leave him. all these words makes so much meaningless noise, so much buzzing silence, and he doesn’t pay attention to them. they are indulgent lies, things to trick him and try to coax him into pretending he doesn’t deserve this. daniel shouldn’t be here. he lets the words wash off him, discomforted by daniel's voice enough that it can’t be soothing.
I blamed myself, you know comes that voice, low and sweet and hurt. somehow it latches into him, a thing with barbs and hooks, pulling at him. he can’t hear the rest but he knows what daniel is talking about – this is part of what he’s earned, this knowing and this pain.
that daniel would ever think… would blame himself…
he wants to open his eyes and it’s the last thing he wants; seeing daniel's face would be the most blessed thing and the most painful thing.
its white here even with his eyes open, formless and vacant and hellishly consuming, and in the center of it all is daniel, laying just next to him and talking into the unsky. There are tears rolling down daniel's face and the sight of them burns something in his chest, something like guilt and anger and self loathing.
for a moment, his friend’s face is obscured by his arm, hiding the tears that he’s not sure daniel even notices, and then daniel has turned his head and is looking right into his eyes, searching and hoping and then looking away, murmuring a greeting and starting to sob.
he wants to comfort, but he cannot speak.
he tells himself he cannot, and he doesn’t.