#haha i fear that i could not let lighter enjoyers sleep easy

[luminique]

tw // angst, death, no comfort, blood

Have you ever thought about how self sacrificing being the champion of a biker gang is? Not to mention, the biker gang that is home to the overlord. 

The thought never crossed Lighter's mind, maybe it did once or twice but it was never enough to dissuade him from ever taking on duels and settling the scores. No one ever mentioned how selfless you have to be as you watch your friends, no. family, try to reach out for you, screaming your name as loud as possible. 

In the distance, the chanting of his name could be heard. The loud cheering for him in the ring keeping him pumped up as he’s maneuvering, toying with his opponent. one step, then another, a bait into an uppercut. It's fast, it’s tiring and it is definitely bloody. It takes two to tango, the same can be said when fighting. The only difference being that one tries to change the pace of the dance, catching their counter off guard and landing a blow. 

The ethereal in front of them was no different, another opponent asking for a dance, a duel, a soul. Nothing new in the hollow, just another addition to his wins as the undefeated champion. 

Fighting for money, for dignity, for honor. At the moment though, his eyes were set on fighting for safety, his gauntlet ready and fired up. He took care of it well, keeping up with its maintenance to ensure that it wouldn’t suddenly malfunction on him. That doesn’t mean that he can’t fight without it anymore, quite the opposite. He knows that things don’t always go smoothly so he plans for the worse and often spars without it, to even the playing field too. 

The ethereal barely budges, taking the punches while doubling its own attack back to him. Lighter is fast though, quick on his feet, even quicker in increasing the power of his punches. The sunglasses that sat pristinely on his face began to falter just slightly down his nose bridge. 

He had only lost it once, the sunglasses that is. It’s either always on his person or nearby him. Occasionally, he would misplace it on his head and ask the girls whether they had seen it and all of them would just point up to it. A simple mistake, a silly habit. Forgetfulness, maybe it was developed after his time in the underground fighting rings. He doesn’t seem to forget the smile on the girls’ faces during the early days, how warm all of the sons of calydon were to him. 

They don’t care what past you had, all they care about is who you are now. Right now, he was getting outclassed, outmoved, overpowered by the ethereal in front of him. A scratch on his face, the blood slowly trickling down his cheek, seeping into his red scarf. 

A red scarf that easily identifies which biker gang he belonged to. He wore it with pride and handled it with care. Slowly improved his sewing skills to ensure that it looked as pristine as when he first received it from Billy. The red was a big contrast to his usual dark outfit, as bright as the flames that he’d fight with. The red of his blood though was darker and thicker than that of the scarf. 

He can’t stop now, not when they were cheering for him. This was his fight to win, his dance to perform. The rough ground under his feet didn’t stop him from moving and sliding, trying to find an opening. But the moment you become too focused on your opponent, you start to lose sight of yourself.

“Being a champion is no easy feat. You ready to jump in the face of danger?” Big Daddy’s voice was clear, as if he had this conversation just yesterday. “Even if it meant death.”

Even if it meant death. 

Those words now come back to bite him. No, they come back to pierce him right in the heart. The ethereal’s scythe-like limb finds its opening and strikes him clean in the back, twisting it just so slightly to bury it even deeper in his body. It slowly lifted Lighter’s body off the ground, making him flail and kick back in resistance. 

The sight in front of him was one that he will never be able to erase from his memories. Everyone watched in horror as they saw blood dripping from his body. A mixture of emotions could be seen on their faces and heard in their voices. Sadness, anger, pain, the sunglasses had fallen off his face now and he had full view. The voices that he could easily distinguish in a heartbeat, were now becoming muddled together into screams of terror. 

When you let your fists do the talking, sometimes you forget to think about yourself. He had fought so much that getting hurt was nothing new, blood was a familiar yet scary sight and scars were just another day. Death, however, was he ready for death? He hadn’t even thought of that. Even in his final moments, he wasn’t thinking of that. All he could think about was the life he had led. 

Memories of a not-so-distant past came flooding back to him. His losses in the ember arena, him patching up his own wounds, making his own makeshift gloves. Memories of hanging around the fire, handling a drunk Burnice, riding around the outer ring, doing errands in lumina square for the girls, sparring with Caesar. 

Does he want his name to be remembered? What about the scarf around his neck? Who will be the next champion? 

He shouldn’t worry himself with those questions for now. He took one last look at the scene in front of him. All of them knew that there was no hope in saving him but that didn’t stop the tears from flowing down their face once he was dropped to the ground and rolled towards them. He stopped right at Caesar’s feet, she couldn’t even move an inch. The girls crowded around him, crying his name like it’d magically bring him back to life. 

But this was no fairytale story, nor was it an alternate timeline. The lighter had been broken, all of its fluid spilling out. There was no chance for a spark, nor was there a chance to refill it with more lighter fluid. He was just another lighter. His flame had warmed the hearts of many, but now left them with a cold and empty shell of what was once their Lighter.