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nephalem-da · 3 months ago

Note

HELLOOOOOOOOOO

I COME WITH A REQUEST.

Can you please write an Bill Cipher x GN! reader, where reader is just insanely tired of his antics and his behaviour and just lashes out at him? (love me some angst, especially for triangle..)

Like, they come home and he's just trashed their house or messes with personal/memorable stuff or brings weird objects in the house to torture them? (maybe he makes bugs randomly appear in rooms for no good reason or he sets the kitchen table on fire and makes all the water disappear) and they are just fed up.

So they come home one day and there he is again, as usual. And obviously, it's Bill Cipher (their partner), so he's going to act like it's completely normal or even appropriate so he just doesn't care about anything, but on this day they've had enough. So they start yelling and screaming out of frustration, yelling at him at how 'annoying' and 'horrific' he is and how 'he only has an existence in being an asshole' and just making comments about how tired they are of him..

And he just sits back, shocked. He's not really one to care or even be shocked at something, (especially something along these lines) so to see them just cry out of frustration and get so angry because of him? Oh he'd fucking freak out. Like, he's just gone pale, blank, he's silent while they're just pouring their soul out the open wound where their heart should've rested.

After all the screaming/yelling/crying, they throw their things to the floor (maybe some glasses for more angsty stuff, hehe) they storm to their room and lock their door, and Bill's just... motionless. He takes a moment to think over how he's acted and how they've been visibly more angry/depressed over the past couple weeks (especially around him) and he just breaks down.

Cue to him, crying (I don't even know if he can, please forgive me, but I need to make him sob) and he's frantically banging at the door and crying while mumbling something that sounds like apologies(??) and trying to get in.

After a few minutes of their silence from the other side, he just teleports into their room and tries to reconcile with them but after a few nudges and pleads, they stand up and scream at him, tears running down their face as they talk about how badly he's been treating them and so on, (he doesn't fail to notice their shaking hands, the heavy choked breaths when they try to calm themselves to keep talking, their posture and how their muscles ached as they moved) and he just has to sit there and listen while he breaks down at the sight.

(OH- AND ALSO AT THE END THEY GO BACK TO BEING HAPPY AND WORK THINGS OUT, ALBEIT A BIT SLOWER ON READERS SIDE BUT IT ALL WORKS OUT, AND YAY!! HAPPY TIMES AT THE ENDD :3)

I'm so sorry if this is a huge burden or anything but I'm obsessed with how you write and I'm a big fan,, keep doing what you do!! I will be here to read your works, :D HAVE A LOVELY DAYYYYYY

Breaking Point

(Bill Cipher x GN!Reader)

Thank you so much for the kind words!! (o_ _)ﾉ彡☆ I might've teared up a little while writing this hehe

This fic is a little lengthy than the others how I usually write. But I want ya'll to feel the raw emotion of pure anger and sadness from the reader, and the panic from Bill. ヾ( ￣O￣)ツ

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Drama

Warning: Emotional Outbursts, Depiction of Verbal Conflict, Reader experiencing high levels of frustration and stress, Brief mention of destruction (fire, water disappearing, bugs appearing), Bill Cipher struggling with remorse and regret, Themes of toxic behavior in a relationship.

Summary: After reaching your limit with Bill Cipher's chaotic behavior, you snap and confront him, leaving Bill stunned and remorseful. Now, both of you must navigate through an emotional journey of healing and reconciliation.

The door creaked as you stepped into the house, the familiar weight of exhaustion pressing against your bones. Work had drained you, life had drained you, and now all you wanted was to come home to some peace. But of course, there was no peace where Bill Cipher was concerned.

Your nostrils flared as the scent of smoke hit you before anything else. The kitchen table was scorched, a blackened mess, and small embers still smoldered in the corners. Water pooled around your feet from where the sink should’ve been, now bone-dry despite the mess. Your gaze darted across the room, scanning for more disasters, and—unsurprisingly—you spotted bugs skittering across the walls and floors. Spiders, centipedes, beetles. All manner of crawling things making themselves at home in what was once your sanctuary.

And then there he was.

Bill Cipher. Floating lazily above the chaos with a smug grin plastered across his face, looking so utterly proud of his handiwork. His golden glow practically mocked you, making everything feel more twisted than it already was. You wanted to cry, scream—something—but the exhaustion in your limbs wouldn’t even let you feel anything. Not yet.

“Heya, kiddo! You’re back earlier than I thought! Guess you’re lucky—you get to witness all the ‘improvements’ I made to the place in real-time!” His voice was sing-songy, obnoxious, as if setting your house on fire and filling it with bugs was some sort of quirky joke.

You dropped your bag to the floor with a heavy thud. “Improvements?” you asked, your voice hollow. “You set the kitchen on fire.”

He spun in a lazy circle. “Oh, that? Pfft, it’ll go out eventually! You know, fire’s just nature’s way of cleaning up! No big deal, kid. You humans get so worked up about the little things.”

“Little things?” Your voice trembled as you repeated his words. “My house is a wreck, Bill.”

His eye rolled dramatically. “It’s just a house. You live here, what? 80, maybe 90 years? Tops? Come on, I’ve seen the multiverse—this is nothing! A little fire, a little infestation… it’s all temporary!” He waved his hand, making a centipede crawl up the wall behind him like it was nothing. Like you should just accept this madness.

Something inside you snapped.

Maybe it was the months of putting up with his antics, the countless moments of chaos that you tried to brush aside because, well, it was Bill. Maybe it was the sleepless nights, the days where he would whisk you into the Mindscape without warning, messing with your head until you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming or awake. Or maybe it was just this day—this awful, grueling day, where you came home hoping for some semblance of normalcy only to find more destruction.

Whatever it was, you’d hit your breaking point.

“No,” you said, your voice starting soft but trembling with barely-contained fury. “It’s not nothing, Bill. It’s not just a little fire, or a few bugs, or some weird object you brought into my life to mess with me.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay? You’re acting like this is a big deal—”

“Because it is a big deal!” The words exploded from you, your voice rising into a full-on scream. “I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!”

Your voice echoed off the walls, loud enough to make Bill pause in mid-air. His expression shifted, his eye narrowing in what looked like confusion. “Whoa, calm down there, kid. No need to get all dramatic—”

“Dramatic?” You felt the surge of frustration and exhaustion hit you all at once. “You think I’m being dramatic? You set the kitchen on fire, Bill! You fill the house with bugs, you mess with my things, you bring chaos into every single moment of my life like it’s a joke, and you think I’m being dramatic?!”

He floated closer, but you shoved past him, your heart hammering in your chest. “I’m tired, Bill! I am so tired of you making my life hell! You don’t care about me—you never have! You only care about yourself, about causing chaos, about proving how powerful you are while you tear my life apart!”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Bill said, his voice wavering slightly. But you weren’t stopping. Not now. Not when everything you’d held back for weeks, months, was finally coming out.

“You’re not fair!” you yelled, your voice cracking. “I’m so sick of cleaning up after you, of pretending that it’s okay for you to ruin everything I care about! You think it’s funny to mess with me, to make my life miserable? It’s not! It’s—”

Your voice caught in your throat as the sobs you’d been holding in for too long finally broke free. “It’s not fair, Bill. It’s just… not fair.”

For the first time since you’d known him, Bill Cipher was silent.

He just hovered there, his triangular form still, his single eye wide and blinking rapidly as if he couldn’t quite process what was happening. He’d seen you angry before, annoyed even—but this? This was different. This was raw. You were breaking down right in front of him, and he didn’t know what to do.

You wiped at your eyes, your breath coming in ragged, shaky bursts as the last of your strength crumbled beneath the weight of everything. You looked at him, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Then, with a trembling hand, you threw your things to the floor—your bag, your keys, the glasses you’d been holding. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, but you didn’t even care. You turned away from him, storming to your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. The lock clicked into place, sealing you in the only place left where you could hide from him.

For a moment, there was silence.

But then came the knock. Soft at first, barely audible. Then louder. “Hey uh... Y/N?” His voice was shaky, unsure, and for the first time since you’d met him, you could hear something like fear in it. “Come on, open the door…”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I was just… I thought we were having fun? You know, me messing around a little… spicing things up!” His voice wavered again, growing more frantic. “Just… open the door. Please?”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, okay?” His voice cracked. “I didn’t think it was that bad. I didn’t… I didn’t realize…”

Still, you didn’t move. Your body felt heavy, drained. You didn’t have the energy to answer him, not after everything that had just happened. The silence from your side must have been too much for him, because after a few moments, you heard that familiar soft pop and felt the air shift.

Bill teleported into your room, appearing right beside you.

He hovered there for a moment, unsure of himself, his usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. “Y/N…” His voice was softer now, almost tentative. He reached out a hand toward you, but you pulled away, still too raw, too hurt.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said, your voice low and thick with emotion. “I’m tired, Bill. I’m tired of you, of this, of everything. You don’t care about me. You only care about yourself.”

He flinched, his entire form flickering as if your words had struck him physically. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I do care. I just… I don’t know how to stop. This is who I am.”

You stood up, your body shaking as the anger and frustration surged through you once again. “No, Bill. This is who you choose to be. You choose to hurt me. You choose to make me miserable, and I can’t take it anymore.” Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. “I can’t keep being the person who puts up with this.”

His eye widened, and for the first time, you saw genuine fear there. “I can change,” he said quickly, desperately. “I can stop, I swear! No more fires, no more bugs, no more chaos! Just… don’t leave me.”

You turned to face him fully, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Why should I believe you?”

He blinked, his form trembling. “Because…” His voice cracked again, and for a moment, he was silent. Then, he dropped lower, sinking to the floor as if bowing before you. “Because I love you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The words hung in the air between you, heavy and fragile.

Bill Cipher, the embodiment of chaos, destruction, and madness… was on the floor, broken and pleading.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I thought I was just… being me. But I see it now. I see what I’ve done to you.” His eye glistened with something you’d never seen before—tears. Real, honest tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—Bill Cipher, the all-powerful, indestructible entity you’d grown so used to, now reduced to this broken, fragile figure. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that he could change, that this was the turning point. But you couldn’t deny the gnawing ache in your chest, the voice in the back of your mind reminding you of all the chaos, all the hurt.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you said, your voice shaking. “You’ve said things like this before, Bill. You’ve promised to dial it back, to stop messing with me, but you never do. You always go back to your old ways, and I—”

Your voice cracked, the weight of everything too much to bear. “I can’t keep going through this. It hurts too much.”

Bill flinched again, his whole form flickering as if he might disappear at any moment. “I know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I know I’ve messed up—over and over again. I’ve pushed you too far. I’ve made you cry, made you scream, and I never thought about how it was affecting you.” He paused, his eye locking onto yours, his voice trembling with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. I thought… I thought we were having fun. But I see now that I was wrong.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion. His words felt sincere, but the pain was still fresh. “You always think it’s fun,” you said quietly. “But it’s not fun for me. I’ve been hurting for so long, Bill. Every day, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, waiting for the next disaster. I can’t live like that.”

Bill floated closer to you, his glow dimming. “I don’t want you to live like that anymore,” he said softly. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re miserable. I’ll change, Y/N. I’ll stop. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.” His voice cracked again, and he hovered just inches from you, his single eye glistening with tears. “Please, don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You closed your eyes, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. You wanted to believe him, to hold onto the hope that he could really change. But you were scared. Scared that this was just another empty promise, another cycle of chaos waiting to happen.

“I need time,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I need time to think. To figure out if I can keep doing this.”

Bill’s form flickered again, his eye wide with panic. “Time? But… what if you decide you don’t want me anymore?”

Your chest tightened at the raw fear in his voice. You’d never seen him like this—vulnerable, desperate, clinging to you like you were his only lifeline. “I don’t know, Bill,” you said softly. “I don’t know what I’ll decide. But I can’t just forgive everything right now. I need space.”

Bill stared at you for a long moment, his eye searching yours, before he slowly nodded. “Okay,” he said, his voice small. “Okay. I’ll give you space. Just… please, don’t shut me out completely. Let me prove that I can be better.”

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “I won’t shut you out. But I need you to respect what I’m asking for. No more chaos. No more tricks. No more pushing me to my limit.”

He blinked, his form flickering once more as he processed your words. Then, with a small, sad smile, he nodded. “You’ve got it, kid. No more tricks. No more chaos. I’ll… I’ll be good.” He tried to sound upbeat, but the strain in his voice was evident.

You watched as he floated back a bit, his usual cocky posture gone. He looked small, almost lost, and it tugged at something deep inside you. Despite everything, despite all the pain he’d caused, you couldn’t help but feel for him.

“Bill…” you began, your voice softening. He looked up at you, hope flickering in his eye. “I do love you,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “But this… this isn’t healthy. We both need to work on this. If you really care about me, you’ll prove it. Not with words, but with actions.”

He floated closer again, his eye wide and solemn. “I will, Y/N. I swear. I’ll show you that I’m serious. I won’t mess this up again.”

You nodded, feeling a small weight lift from your chest. “Okay.”

There was a long, heavy silence between the two of you, the air thick with tension and the lingering emotions of the night. But for the first time in a long while, there was also something else—a sliver of hope. It was fragile, but it was there.

Bill hovered in place for a few more moments before he slowly floated toward the door. He paused just before leaving, turning back to you with a soft, almost shy smile. “I’ll let you rest. But… I’ll be around. If you need me.”

You nodded again, and with that, he disappeared with a soft pop, leaving you alone in the quiet of your room.

You exhaled deeply, your body sagging with the weight of the night’s emotions. It wasn’t over—not by a long shot—but there was a chance. A chance that things could get better, that Bill could change. It would take time, and you’d need to see real progress, but for the first time, you felt like he truly understood the gravity of his actions.

It would take work. It would take patience. But maybe, just maybe, things could heal.

The days passed slowly after that. Bill kept his distance, honoring your request for space. You still saw him, floating around the house or popping in to check on you, but he was different now. Calmer. Quieter. He didn’t wreak havoc or bring chaos into your life anymore. Instead, he seemed to go out of his way to make things easier for you.

He fixed the scorched kitchen, repaired the broken table, and even got rid of the bugs without so much as a snarky comment. It was strange at first—seeing him so subdued—but it also gave you hope.

You weren’t ready to forgive him completely, not yet. But you were willing to give him a chance.

One night, as you sat in the living room, you heard the familiar pop of Bill teleporting in. You looked up to see him hovering nearby, holding something in his hands—or rather, what looked like a bouquet of floating, glowing flowers. They shimmered in the dim light, casting soft shadows on the walls.

“I, uh, brought these for you,” he said awkwardly, floating closer. “I know they’re not your typical flowers, but I thought… you might like them.”

You stared at the glowing bouquet for a moment before a small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Bill,” you said softly, accepting the flowers.

He smiled back, that familiar spark of mischief in his eye, but this time it wasn’t overwhelming. It wasn’t destructive. It was… soft.

And as you looked at him, at the effort he was putting in, you felt the tiniest flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

I love me some vulnerable Bill hehe (￣ε￣＠) Anyways! Hope you guys enjoyed it! ^^

#bill cipher x reader #gravity falls #the book of bill #bill cipher #angst #argument #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #emotional breakdown #toxic relationship #established relationship

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oddsconvert · 1 year ago

Text

Shattered #9 - It's Cruel To be Kind

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Apologies for the wait!!! 🥺❤️

CW: Whumpee thinks Caretaker is new master/whumper, vampire caretaker, bloodbag whumpee, reference to vampire whumper/previous abuse/captivity, bloodbag whumpee, recovery whump, aftermath of nightmare, emotional breakdown/self doubt (August going through it!!!) [Pls lemme know if I missed any! 🫶]

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The wind is swept from August’s sails. It feels as though he’s adrift in the open ocean. Lost at sea with no waves or wind to carry him to shore. A storm rages overhead, lightning splitting through the pitch-black sky, dark clouds rolling in. There’s an island on the horizon, a glimmer of hope. It calls August - it beckons him. And he tries with all his might to paddle there, waiting for the gust of gaia’s wind to propel him towards salvation.

It never comes. The ferocious ocean waves sway August further away. Totally stranded and utterly helpless.

August skulks out of Declan’s bedroom in bruised defeat. The desperate screams for mercy and freedom fade until they’re nothing but a distant echo, swallowed up by the silence of the house. This isn’t working. This isn’t fair. They’re getting nowhere. The road they are paving for the human’s recovery is nothing more than them blindly stumbling in the dark and feeling their way around, and it’s to Declan’s detriment. At his expense. Torturing the already tortured soul.

It’s cruel, August thinks. He took an oath when he devoted his life to medicine; he swore to alleviate pain and suffering, to do no harm, and uphold ethical practices. This cannot be ethical. Surely. What he’s doing feels downright criminal and inhumane. Is it worth the healing of Declan’s body only to terrorise his mind? Leaving him in perpetual anguish and dazing confusion day in and day out. Keeping him hidden and isolated far away from his loved ones.

August slides his back down the wall, head buried in his hands. He can still hear Declan’s shrill cries ringing in his ears, piercing through his heart. Honestly? He always hears them. Day and night. Since that first day Declan woke up and nearly burst his eardrums with his terrified screams. August’s conscience won’t let him forget them, it’s harrowing.

Because Declan is scared half to death of August. The screams are because of him.

Home might just be the best medicine for Declan. That is the true cure August is searching for. Declan may not be held here with ropes and chains or kept under the lull of persuasion; but he is wholly and unwillingly dependent on August for his survival. Declan has no choice now but to rely on the vampire for his entire humanity - he’s too weak to fend for himself, let alone chase his own heart's desire. He is reliant on the vampire for his nourishment, for his health, safety and protection and even his communication. His whole way of life. The only way Declan can exercise his own free will, is if August helps him to.

And well…Declan keeps asking for home. Who is August to deny him that?

“He’s going to try some sleep again,” Lucas whispers across the hallway, careful to slowly and gently pull the bedroom door to. No loud or sudden noises. They’ve learned that the hard way. “I’ve promised him we’ll leave him to it for tonight. He just needs space to breathe.”

And then what? Declan jolts awake an hour later in floods of tears and hiccuping sobs again? Do they ignore it this time? Leave him be and let him cry it out? Or send Lucas back in…he likes Lucas. August knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s so envious of that. He’d never harm a hair on Declan’s head, he’s fought tooth and nail to save him. Why must he be branded the bad guy?

August knows the answer. That doesn’t make it any easier.

“I have never seen fear like that in my life,” Lucas slumps beside August on the floor, a far-away look on his face like he’s just seen a ghost. He stares blankly, dead ahead, at the floral wallpaper across from him, and shakes his head in disbelief, “What the hell do you put a man through to make him scream in his sleep?”

Hell. Exactly that. That’s what you put him through. You turn him into a zombie, living dead. A body forced to live when its mind is melted to a puddle. You send him to tango with death and live to tell the tale. Hurt him until he can’t feel it, and even then still hurt him some more. It’s impossible to comprehend the horrors Declan suffered, or fathom why or how someone could do that to another living, breathing being. But it happened, and August can’t change that no matter how hard he tries.

“Lucas? Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

It’s a question that’s been rattling inside August’s skull for a while now. Guilt and sympathy fighting each other to the death. He only ever wanted to help Declan back on his feet, bring him completely back to himself and, help deliver him home all in one piece. August could never live with himself if Declan went home to his family, lifeless and comatose. They may as well have sent him with his casket too. And he can’t send him back as he is now; the tattered man weeping himself into another dread-fueled nightmare.

Or can he? Should he?

“Without a doubt in my mind,” Lucas asserts, certain as can be. He says it with his entire chest, and he seems almost offended by the question. He straightens himself from his slouched slump on the floor, sitting up against the wall and crossing his legs underneath him, “What makes you ask that?”

August opens his mouth, but no words come out. His jaw clicks shut before he can even dare try. If he says it, it makes it all real, doesn’t it? Every worry springs into existence, everything he’s frightened of is brought to life. August will have to face all his mistakes and misdeeds, every foolish mis-step he’s taken in Declan’s care. But he has to own up to it sooner or later. Face the music. So he can do what’s right by Declan.

“I fear… I fear we’re doing more harm than good to the boy.”

“August-”

“W-What if I’m getting this all wrong?” August falters, his voice thick with shameful, threatening tears. As Lucas shuffles closer to console him, August crumbles even more into the floor and wishes the ground would swallow him whole. “What - What if we’re hurting him, and sure maybe not hurting him like that vile monster who stole him but... in a different way?”

Declan still thinks and feels like a prisoner. He was trapped in Vince’s basement, and then he was trapped in his mind, his body and now trapped all over again. This time as August’s patient, stuck helpless in bed.

But Lucas shakes his head passionately, giving a reaffirming squeeze to August’s knee. Lucas is too good to August, too kind and forgiving. It’s more than he could ever deserve in this life or the next. But right now his words of encouragement fall on deaf ears, August needs to be told how it is. And it's plain as day that his presence is damaging Declan, not helping him. Declan is still suffering. He’s supposed to be free and thriving, and he’s still hurting.

“Were it not for you, Declan would have taken his last pained breath that first night you brought him home. Even worse, he could have died a broken shell of a man in that basement, alone and suffering. You revived him. You gave him a second life.”

It doesn’t feel like it. What kind of life is jumping at shadows and cowering behind blankets? Terrified of what’s around the corner. A thousand words trapped in his mind that he could never say.

“I bought him. Like livestock…he thinks he’s my property-”

It’s time to call it a day, and let him give up the fight and lay down his sword.

“He’s just scared, August. He’s so scared, and all alone and horribly confused. He’s been through hell and back. It’s not you.”

“It is me, Lucas,” August disagrees, “It’s what I am.”

A blood-sucking monster that stalks the night looking for its next prey to feed from and drain dry. August has spent his whole life trying to break free from that mould, to run far away from what he’s supposed to be and never look back. Somehow Declan sees right through him, right down to his core. He sees what August refuses and tries to hide from. His own blood, his very nature.

“How could he ever heal at the hands of something he fears the most?” August asks, disgusted with himself. He should rip out his fangs and run outside to bathe in the sun’s agonising rays. It sickens him that he is associated with the brute that did this to Declan. That August’s kind hunt and kill humans for food… for sport. Who could blame Declan for being scared of vampires. August is scared of vampires.

“He deserves better-”

“-Declan deserves you,” Lucas’ tone was clipped, as if his word was final and there was no possible room for discussion. But August had known him so long, he could hear the affection underneath the terse words. “You are the best thing that could have ever happened to him. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Lucas once looked at him the same way Declan looks at him now. With nothing but fear and disdain in his eyes. Backed into the corner like a scared small animal. August remembers the way he felt when they both locked eyes for the first time, terror meeting terror; it felt like he wasn’t worthy of breathing the same oxygen. That he was a monster, and should whittle the stake himself and hand it to Lucas with an apologetic bow.

Has August always mistook help for harm? He must be doomed to repeat the same cycle of pain. Maybe it’s just in his cold-blood. His vile, worthless blood. Vampires hurt humans. That's how the story goes. There’s nothing he can do to escape that fate.

“My friend,” August chokes up, grabbing Lucas’ hands to squeeze in his own, and stroking his thumb over his wrists. “I wronged you. I hurt you. Just like I’m hurting Declan now.”

A thousand apologies could never make up for what he’s done, the hurt he inflicted. Years down the line the shame and regret still plagues him, festers inside him deep down. Over and over he’s told he’s forgiven, more times than there are drops in the ocean. Again, it doesn’t change the fact it happened.

“You saved me,” Lucas gasps in awe, astounded by August’s confession. Something they’d both long agreed was water under the bridge. “ Just like you’re saving Declan. Would you have given up on me?”

“Never.”

“Then why give up on him? When he needs you more than I ever did?”

A fire lights inside of August, determination burns within him. This isn’t throwing in the towel, this is him fighting. Doing what’s right, even if it feels wrong. If it means letting go-

“I’m not giving up on him. I would never give up on him. I want to do what’s best by him.”

“I trust you, August. And I think if you just hold in there, Declan will learn to trust you too. It just needs time.”

Time does heal all wounds, as they say. And maybe Lucas is right. Maybe if they just play the waiting game, Declan could make it through to the other side, unharmed and unafraid. Yet August knows that these aren’t fresh wounds - not anymore - they’ve turned to ugly, withered scars. A permanent mark on the boy’s mind, body and soul. There’s no curing that. But could Declan learn to live with that?

“Tell yourself what you tell him. He’s not a captive. We’re going to take him home, yes?” Lucas quirks an interrogative brow, and August nods miserably in response. Declan is starting to feel like a captive against all intent and promises. “I think if we drop him off in human territory now - lame and pain-riddled, scared of everything that moves - that is what would be cruel. Us looking after him and building him back up for a little bit longer; that’s the mercy he’s begging for. Even if he doesn’t realise that right now.”

“How do I know which path to take?” August whispers with a wince, like the daunting thought threatens to implode inside his mind.

“Humans know so little of vampire persuasion, how it affects the brain and body. He could be stuck like this forever. His family will get half their son back at best. Who knows if his state will deteriorate? If he’ll ever walk or talk again. We can help him, August. You know that we can help him feel human again.”

“I don’t want to cause him any more unnecessary pain,” August laments, “He’s been through enough.”

August was never under any illusion this would be easy. He was prepared to weather the storm from the second he first laid eyes on Declan. Down in that basement; knelt and bound, small and fragile, unreachable and lifeless - drowning in Vince's power. August can help Declan, he’s got him this far already, he’s nearly out of the woods. They could do it, this could work. But at what cost?

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you,” Lucas promises, “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. Always…”

August had saved Lucas before, hadn't he? Perhaps there is still hope. Perhaps he can still save Declan.

---

Thank you to @darkthingshappen for beta-ing this chapter!!!!

Next update will drop on Monday! (7/8) 🫶 Time for a lil flashback to how August and Lucas met... 🤫

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