#wish i could rip my throat to bloody shreds screaming i tried but im too quiet to do that

[hiddenintheveil]

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[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.7k

Part 7/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

"My bones are smoldering And my knuckles are bloody. Forgive me. Forgive me." - Aloud (20/365)

Masterlist

Every piece, every atom of your soul was ripped apart, shredded like fine vellum beneath the Hexcore’s unnatural power. The runes on your skin burned as they changed in rapid succession, pain lancing across your skull like it would crack in two from the pressure. Your limbs stretched and ached as your magic wrapped around your wrists, your ankles, anchoring you against the power of the Hexcore swirling in a vortex of blue and violet, electric charges spreading and crackling. 

Where was Viktor? He’d disappeared when your magic had consumed and drained those men. Had it taken him too? 

A metal hand, charged with blue light, broke through the vortex, straining against the force of the wind. Terror and relief struck you all at once. He was alive, and yet, would he remain so? 

His hand pushed farther, his arm, and his shoulder following, metal sparking with magic, zapped by the electricity in your current. 

“He will die trying to save you,” the Hexcore gloated. “His death will be on your hands.”

Horror seized you, your breathing rapid, your lungs burning with the charged, thick air that slid down your throat like hot coals. He hadn’t let you heal him in days, he’d weakened, and yet he pushed on anyway. 

Viktor's head bursts through the vortex, his eyes wild with determination, gritting his teeth against the pull of magic. You gasped, relief and terror warring within you as he struggled to push the rest of his body through. With a final push, he tumbled, landing hard on his knees beside you, crutch falling to his side - having used it to leverage himself through.

You whimpered as his chest heaved, each breath a ragged gasp that sent a fear tingling through your limbs and up your neck.

"I'm here," he croaked, pushing himself up to stand, crutch held tight to his side. "I will not let it take you."

The Hexcore's laughter echoed around you, setting your teeth on edge. "Oh, how delicious," it purred. "Your panic is exquisite. Can you feel your control slipping away?"

You could. Your magic was unravelling, tendrils of power escaping your grasp like water through a sieve. The runes on your skin flared and sputtered, their patterns shifting faster than you could track. You tried to focus, to reign it in, but Viktor's haggard breathing and the Hexcore's taunting laughter shattered your semblance of control.

Your mind felt like it was cracking, like a stone that had been smashed with a hammer one too many times. People flashed before you - those you cared for, Viktor, Sky, Jayce - and they screamed and they burned as your magic shredded them apart. 

You just wanted them to leave you alone, let you burn in peace. Save themselves and let you go. 

Distracted as you were, Viktor had managed to get close enough to grab one of your outstretched wrists, tugging himself closer until he stood directly in front of you.

His flesh and blood hand cupped your scarred cheek. Would this be the last time you felt it? The soft feel of his skin and the roughness of his calluses. You could see the pain etched in the lines of his face, the trembling of his limbs as he fought to stay upright. But there was something else there too - a determination that burned brighter than the Hexcore's violent light.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice gruff but steady. "You are stronger than this. Your magic is not meant for destruction. It's a force of good, of love - a reflection of you. Do you remember the first time you eased my pain? I’d never felt anything so sweet before. That came from you, Milá."

You choked on a sob, how badly you wished that to be true.

“I-I can’t, Viktor, I can’t do it!” The magic was too strong, like a tornado of will and might and an avalanche of anger and grief, it pulled you down, tore at your skin, pulled you apart piece by piece. “You need to go!”

“And abandon you?” His voice, lilting and soft - too soft for the gripping terror that squeezed your throat. “Never.”

You whimpered, low, like a wounded animal caught in a trap of its own making. “The Hexcore, it won’t stop, I can’t get it to stop.”

A laugh echoed in your ears, taunting, teasing you with its vindication. 

“I have never seen you allow anyone else tell you what to do.” His smile, so kind, so patient, always for you. You didn’t deserve it, yet he gave it freely. “Why start now?”

A dark red stain beneath his nose caught your gaze, your heart freezing in your chest, the roar of your magic fading beneath the rush of white noise in your ears. Even as he smiled, blood trickled at the corners of his mouth, crimson tears falling from his doleful eyes. You were killing him, and yet he made no move to flee. He simply stood with you, cupping your cheek, hand around your waist. His crutch, wedged under his arm, seemed to be the only thing supporting him as he stood there, waiting for you despite knowing that you were the one causing him harm.

“Please, Viktor. Please, go, I’m begging you!” you cried, eyes and throat burning, a stinging wetness on your cheeks.

“And I am begging you to fight this. I have faith in your abilities, miláčku.” Viktor leaned his forehead against yours, the heat from his skin seeping into your icy flesh. “The Hexcore does not get to decide who you are and it does not get to take you from me.” 

You gritted your teeth, Viktor's words igniting a spark of defiance within you. All you had wanted was for him to stay with you; how could you not do the same?

With every ounce of strength in your body, you willed your hands towards your chest, battling against the binds of magic that held you in place. Every muscle in your body screamed with effort, tendons straining as you pushed through the pain and forced your limbs to obey.

The Hexcore's laughter faltered, its confidence wavering as you struggled against its hold. The magic around your wrists started to give, like elastic bands stretched to their limit. Inch by agonizing inch, your hands moved closer to your sternum.

Viktor's grip on you tightened, lending you his strength. "That's it," he said, his voice strained but encouraging. "You can do this.”

With a last, valiant push, you held your hands to your chest. The magical restraints snapped with an audible crack, sending shockwaves through the vortex surrounding you. The sudden release nearly sent you stumbling, but Viktor's steadying hold kept you upright.

Panting, you pressed your palms flat against your breastbone. You could feel the Hexcore's energy pulsing beneath your skin, a writhing mass of corrupted power. Clenching your jaw, you began to pull, imagining your hands sinking into flesh, grasping the foreign entity, and dragging it out.

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, you felt something give, like pulling a thread from a tightly woven tapestry. One strand came loose, then another, and another. The Hexcore's hold started to weaken, its tendrils retracting from your limbs, your organs, your cells.

Hope surged within you. It was working! You redoubled your efforts, pulling harder, feeling the Hexcore's essence start to pool beneath your palms. The vortex around you flickered and wavered, its roar diminishing to a dull whisper.

But as you continued to extract the Hexcore, a creeping sense of dread overtook you. Something wasn’t right. The energy you were pulling out felt wrong, incomplete. It writhed and squirmed in your grasp, desperately seeking what it was missing.

With a sickening realization, you understood the truth. The Hexcore had become too entwined with your life force. It could not exist independently anymore. It needs a living vessel. You couldn’t destroy it without destroying its host in the process.

Your hands faltered, and the extracted energy snapped back into your body like a rubber band. The vortex surged anew, and the Hexcore's laughter returned, triumphant and mocking.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" it taunted. "I am a part of you now. You cannot simply cast me aside."

You slumped in Viktor's arms, despair threatening to overtake you. It would never work. The Hexcore was tied to life itself - your life.

Part of what made him such a great inventor was Viktor’s innate ability to understand the subtlest of details with only a single glance. He had a remarkable knack for uncovering the hidden potential, the true meaning, of anything he encountered. He’d always been able to read you, as if he could hear your thoughts, and when you gazed up at him with a fresh wave of tears brimming in your eyes, he gave you a sad smile. 

“I feared that would be the case,” he said, his thumb tracing soothing lines over your cheekbone. “It wanted you for your magic, and now that it has had a taste of life, it will not be parted from it. But if it was within a body that did not have access to the arcane, I believe it could be…malleable.” 

“No,” you spat, pulling your face out of his grasp, swallowing back the surge of energy that flayed your spine. He didn’t need to say it for you to understand his meaning. “I am not subjecting you to the Hexcore. I would rather die.” 

And though death scared you, his death frightened you more than anything that could ever and would ever exist in any universe. 

“And I will not leave you.” He countered, wiping the back of his hand across the blood that ran in rivulets over his lips, down his chin, falling in droplets to the floor. “It would seem we are at an impasse.”

Salt, wet and hot hit your tongue as tears streamed down your cheeks. Hiccups disrupted your already scattered breathing. “But—“ a hiccup, your chin trembling, “but you’ll die.” 

“We both know I was dying already, I have been for some time.” He was right, of course, you’d felt his life force slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. No matter how hard you tried to pick up those minuscule pieces and put them back, you always missed some - more and more every day. Your power alone couldn’t save him, even with the fraction of the Hexcore you’d used. “But we do not know for certain that the Hexcore will kill me, as it will surely do to you.”

You couldn’t go on like this, and neither could he. 

“I love you.” Your voice caught in a sob around his name, your muscles tensed as you held yourself back from falling apart. How could you do this, how were you supposed to throw this…horrible, violent being into the man you loved? But you also couldn’t stand by and let him die.

“From the moment we met, there has not been a second that I was not yours.” A bittersweet smile curved along his bloodstained lips. You wanted to scream, to beg someone, anyone, to help, to avoid this fate. But there was no one except the two of you, no help to be had. With trembling hands, you placed your palms against your chest once more.

"I’m so sorry, Viktor. I’m so, so sorry,” you choked out, teeth barred.

"Don't be, Miláček,” he said, thumb painting smooth lines over your cheekbone, wiping at your tears. “This is my choice."

With a tortured, gut-wrenching howl that tore from the depths of your soul, you plunged your hands into your own chest. Searing, all-consuming agony shredded through every nerve as you grasped the writhing essence of the Hexcore. It writhed and fought, its sharp edges scraping against your bones, hooking into your organs, desperate to maintain its hold. But your love for Viktor, your need to keep him alive, burned brighter than any of it, giving you strength you didn't know you possessed.

You ripped the Hexcore from your body, a pulsing mass of energy crackling between your hands. With no room for hesitation, you shoved it into Viktor's chest, sinking into his metal flesh as if it were clay beneath your fingers.

For a moment, time stood still. You saw the shock in Viktor's eyes, the pain, the love. Then, everything erupted in a blinding flash of purple light.

The force of the explosion threw you backward, your body slamming against an unseen barrier. The air was ripped from your lungs as waves of energy pulsed outward, shattering windows and bouncing off the walls. The very foundations of the building seemed to groan under the strain.

Through the confusion, you caught glimpses of Viktor; his body suspended in mid-air, arcs of violet electricity dancing across his skin both natural and enhanced. His back arched in agony, mouth open in a soundless scream as the Hexcore's power surged through him.

The light grew more intense, forcing you to shield your eyes. The air crackled with raw energy, making your hair stand on end. You could feel the Hexcore's influence diminishing within you, but at what cost?

As quickly as it began, the light imploded, collapsing in on itself with a thunderous crash.

Blinking rapidly to clear the white spots from your vision, you scanned your surroundings. The house was in ruins, debris scattered everywhere, walls caved in. Your heart pounded in your throat as you searched frantically for Viktor. 

There - a glint of metal caught your eye.

You scrambled to Viktor's side, throwing debris out of your way like it weighed nothing, your heart pounding so hard you feared it might burst through your ribcage. He lay motionless on the floor, his body now a gleaming expanse of gold and dark grey metal. Gone were his worn clothes, replaced by a glinting and grooved metallic frame that seemed to have fused over his remaining flesh. Only his face remained human, though even that had changed - tendrils of metal crept up his cheeks like silvery vines. The violet magic of the Hexcore leapt across his body, hissing, but unable to do any harm.

"Viktor?" you whispered, your voice cracking and hoarse. You reached out with unsteady hands, afraid to touch him, afraid of what you might not feel. But as your fingers brush his chest, you detect the faintest rise and fall. He was breathing. He was alive.

A cry of relief, quickly followed by another, and another, until you were weeping uncontrollably over his limp form. You gathered him into your arms, cradling his head against your chest, uncaring of the cold metal pressed against your skin. His breath puffed against your collarbone, each tiny exhale a miracle. The sparks, ever-present, danced around you both, their light pulsing in time with your broken bawling.

Time lost all meaning as you sat there, holding Viktor, watching for any sign of consciousness. Minutes blended into hours, and hours into days. You drifted in and out of awareness, your exhausted mind unable to fully process the magnitude of what had happened, caught in a haze of disbelief and grief.

Would he ever wake up? Or had you sent him into an endless slumber?

To make it all worse, Viktor was not the only one affected by the transfer of power. Where the Hexcore had once been, Shimmer took its place. It had lain dormant, fuelling the Hexcore so that it did not bother you, but without an outlet, it sought another avenue to consume. 

You. 

Try as you might to hold onto the last vestiges of your sanity, without anything but Viktor’s quietly humming body to anchor you, you began to drift away. 

You did not eat, you barely drank. Your body was stiff and cramped from sitting in the same position for so long, but you refused to leave his side, despite the sparks pulling at the hem of your cloak. The world outside that room ceased to exist. There was only you, Viktor, the sparks, and the agonizing wait for him to open his eyes. At some point, you’d wrapped him up in the blankets, though you couldn’t remember when, and laid his now twisted and warped crutch at his side in case he needed it.

Yet even then, your mind refused to allow you peace. Going through the same motions over and over again, with a relentlessness that seemed never-ending.

You blinked, and the room was filled with shimmering butterflies. Their iridescent wings caught the light, casting rainbows across Viktor's body. You reached out, mesmerized, only for them to dissolve into mist at your touch. A sharp crack echoed behind you and you whirled around, heart racing, magic crackling at your fingertips. But there was nothing there - just shadows dancing on the wall.

Sky's laughter rang out, clear as a bell. "Over here!" she called. You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over Viktor in your haste. She was right there, by the door, waving and smiling just as she had when she’d lived. She’d died, hadn’t she? The fog in your mind wouldn’t part, and you didn’t care. She was your friend, and you needed her now more than ever. You ran towards her, arms outstretched, but just as you reached her, she faded away like smoke. Your hands grasping at empty air and you choked back a cry.

A hand landed on your shoulder and you lashed out, a bolt of wild magic flying from your palm. It sizzled past Jayce's ear, singeing his hair. He looked at you with furrowed brows, mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear his words. You blinked, and he was gone too, leaving you alone again.

You stumbled back to Viktor, collapsing beside him. His face was peaceful, human, the face you fell in love with. But as you watched, it shifted. Metal crept across his skin, covering his features until all that was left was a cold, expressionless mask, no flesh left, unblinking golden eyes. You screamed, scrambling backward, your nails scraping against the floor. You blinked rapidly, and his face was human again, then metal, then human. Like you were spinning around and around in circles, nausea churned in your stomach, bile writhing up your throat.

A shadow flitted across your vision and you jumped, whirling to face this new threat. Your magic surged, ready to defend, but it was just a piece of paper caught in a draft. You laughed, the sound high and hysterical, bordering on a sob.

The remaining walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting like lungs. You pressed your hands against your eyes, trying to block out the impossible sights. When you looked again, everything was normal. But for how long it would remain so, you did not know.

How many times had you gone through those hallucinations? Were they even hallucinations, or rather visions? You couldn’t tell them apart.

You curled up next to Viktor, clinging to him like he was a buoy and you were adrift at sea. His steady breathing was the only constant in your fracturing world. You closed your eyes, praying for sleep, for sanity, for anything to make the hallucinations stop. But even in darkness, the visions came, unrelenting and terrifying.

Sometimes, in rare periods of lucidity, you found yourself talking to him, your voice raspy and barely audible. You told him about the sunlight filtering through the broken windows, painting patterns on the floor. You described the way the dust specks danced in the air, stirred by your breath and his. You confessed your fears, your hopes, your unwavering love.

Other times, you simply sat in silence, your fingers tracing the new contours of his face. You memorized every detail - the way the metal seamlessly melded with his skin, the soft whir of unseen mechanisms keeping him alive. His eyelids fluttered occasionally, rapid movements beneath delicate skin that gave you hope he was dreaming, that somewhere in there, he was still Viktor.

But the hallucinations always had a way of worming themselves back in, of striking fear into your heart. Of making you feel horribly, and completely alone.

Curling in on yourself, your head tucked between your knees, you rocked, back and forth, back and forth. It’s not real, you told yourself. But it felt so real, tangible in a way that nothing else had ever been. Your friends, Viktor, they were all a part of you, and seeing them as they were before everything changed, even fleetingly, made the chasm of your grief open wider. You’d only just managed to help Viktor survive, and then he’d been taken so cruelly from you, and by your own hand. 

No, he was alive, he was breathing beside you, wasn’t he? You couldn’t look, couldn’t bring yourself to check. For if he wasn’t, if he truly had ceased to breathe, you were not sure you’d be able to stop yourself from taking the whole of Runeterra down in your anguish. 

“Milá.” Though hoarse and metallic in quality, you would recognize his voice anywhere. But your mind had been playing so many tricks on you as of late, to allow yourself to believe only for it to be torn away when you looked up to find him unmoving…

“Milá,” he said again, this time with more force. You clutched at the sides of your head, pulling on your hair, pinpricks of pain shooting across your scalp. 

Go away, go away, go—

The floor creaked, the shifting of metal on wood. “So soon? I would have thought you’d be slightly more excited to see me awake.”

One moment you were curled in on yourself, tearing at your hair like you could pull the distressing thoughts from your skull, and the next, you were launching yourself toward Viktor, who had just propped himself up into a sitting position. You flung your arms around his neck, taking in deep gasps of air as your hands gripped onto his head, his back, his hair - anything to feel that this was real.

“Is it really you?” Even to your ears, your voice sounded pitiful, hoarse like you’d been screaming for hours - had you? You couldn’t recall. 

Viktor chuckled, that sweet, beautiful sound that always set your heart to singing. “Who else would I be?” 

Pulling back, you held his face in your hands, Shimmer, pink and vibrant coursing through the veins in your arms. The sparks darted down your shoulders, bouncing over each other until they reached Viktor. They trailed across his cheeks, leaving a warm, glowing trail, before coming to rest against his neck like tiny fireflies snuggling against him.

He had changed, yes, but he was still Viktor. 

“I was so afraid that you’d…” You swallowed thickly, death sitting heavily on your tongue. 

His hands settled themselves on your hips, pulling you towards him. “I was fairly certain I would survive, but I am sorry to have worried you. If we had been given more time, perhaps we could have figured out a, ah, safer way.” 

You laughed, too shrill to be anything but hysterical. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

You crashed your lips against his, tears streaming down your face as you poured every ounce of fear, relief, and love into the kiss. His lips were warm and soft, the taste of salt tears mingling with the familiar sweetness of Viktor, and you drank it in greedily, desperate to convince yourself that this was true.

Your hands roamed over his face, tracing the delicate patterns of silver and gold that adorned his cheeks. They were smooth beneath your fingertips, almost silky, and you marvelled at how seamlessly they blended with his skin. Viktor's hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. The sparks danced around you both, creating a shimmering cocoon of blue light.

As you broke apart for air, a sob pushed past your teeth. You rested your forehead against his, your noses brushing. His breath fanned across your face, warm and alive, and you closed your eyes, savouring the feeling. Your tears fell freely, landing on his cheeks and sliding down the metallic edges.

“How do you feel?” you asked, breathless, but needing to know. 

Viktor's eyes met yours, and you were struck by the suddenness of seeing their iridescent colouring, shifting and swirling like a muted rainbow. "I feel…alive," he said, his voice filled with both wonder and uncertainty. "It's as if every nerve ending is singing, every cell vibrating with energy. The Hexcore, it's not just a part of me now - it's become me."

You watched, transfixed, as he flexed his fingers, tiny jolts of magic dancing between the joints - no longer blue from your magic, but a vibrant shade of violet from the Hexcore.

"I can sense everything," he continued, his forehead creasing in concentration. "The air currents in the room, the minute vibrations in the floor, even the electrical impulses in your body. It's overwhelming, but also exhilarating."

"The pain is gone," he said, a note of disbelief in his voice. "For the first time in years, I feel no pain. But more than that, I feel…whole. Complete. As if this is what I was always meant to become. A final evolution, if you would.”

Your heart swelled with relief at Viktor's words, but a nagging worry still gnawed at the edges of your mind - something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t figure out what exactly. The Shimmer coursing through your veins pulsed erratically, sending sparks skittering across your skin.

His gaze returned to you, filled with worry that you could see like waves lapping at the shores of his thoughts. "And you, miláčku, something is different about you.”

"I'm…I'm not sure what’s happening," you admitted, your voice shaky, afraid to admit your fears. "Everything feels so strange. Like I'm both here and not here at the same time." You gestured vaguely at the room around you. "I keep seeing things that aren't real. Or maybe they are? I can't tell anymore."

Viktor frowned, his new iridescent eyes scanning your face intently. "What do you see?"

You laughed, a brittle sound that bordered on panic. "Oh, you know, the usual. Butterflies made of light. Sky calling for me. Jayce trying to talk to me. The walls breathing." You paused, swallowing hard. "Your face turning into a metal mask.”

His eyes softened around the corners. "Ah, I see. The Shimmer is affecting you more strongly now that the Hexcore is gone, correct?"

You nodded, grateful he understood without you having to explain further. "I don't know what's real anymore, Viktor. I'm…scared."

Viktor's arms encircled you, pulling you to rest against his chest. The cool metal was so different from his warm face pressed against your hair. "I'm real," he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. "This, us, right here - it's real."

You clung to him, trembling. The Shimmer in your veins pulsed again, sending a surge of disorientation through you. But Viktor's steady heartbeat anchored you, a rhythm to focus on, to distract you from yourself.

"I will try to help," Viktor said softly. He glanced around at the ruined walls, the floorboards stained with traces of your magic, of the Hexcore, his own blood. It was a miracle it was still standing, and you were sure you would have been attacked had it not been for the wards you’d put up. 

You sucked your lips between your teeth, staring at the electric blue wall surrounding the house. When had you done that? 

“But not here. We should go. It is no longer safe for us.” He looked towards the wall that you’d thrown the attackers against. “If it ever was.” 

“I’m sorry, Viktor,” you tucked your chin to your chest, “this was your childhood home and I…” Ruined it like everything else you touched. 

Hooking his index finger below your chin, he angled your face up towards his. “It is just a place. My home is with you.” 

Such a sweet, simple statement made your teeth ache. The sparks that had nestled into his chest glowed their approval, emitting light humming noises, creating a high-pitched harmony. 

You placed a kiss against his palm, the cool metal greeting your lips with a spark that made them tingle. “Then we go together.” 

He smiled, soft and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Always.”

When you left that house behind, your hand tucked tightly into Viktor’s, you prayed to whatever gods were listening that you hadn’t made the wrong choice, that giving the Hexcore to Viktor had been the correct option. 

But if it was right, why did you feel a deep sense of dread clinging to your heart like a thick layer of frost? 

Next Chapter

A/N: And you're on to a new destination!! Is everyone ready for Jesus Viktor?

[virgilantejustice]

Heartbreak: The infection

I wrote this a while ago, because apparently i love to torture myself and my characters. I wouldn’t say that it is part of the main story, and i dont know if it really adds anything, hell, it might make it worse, but i wanted to write it. Read at your own peril, because im not sure if it ruins the whole thing or not.

chapter one    chapter two    chapter three    on the church steps    sea of stars    (this one fits in here)

Word count: ~2000

Trigger warnings: Major character death, injury/mutilation, murder, crying

masterpost link

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A year later.

The sun was rising, and the light was streaming through the stained glass windows and striking the floor in multicoloured rays. Logan saw the light dancing on the inside of his eyelids even before he opened them, to see Patton lying beside him, smiling in his sleep.

“Hey, Sleepy Head,” Logan murmured. Patton groaned and swiped sleepily at him with his eyes closed, his hand in totally the wrong place. Logan laughed gently and shook his shoulder.

“Whaaaaaat?” he groaned with a giggle, opening his eyes and sitting up on his elbows.

“Time to get up,” Logan replied, slowly getting to his feet and pulling on his clothes. Patton moaned and did the same. When he was done, he straightened Logan’s tie (a remenant from his last life that he was determined to keep a hold of) and planted a light kiss on his cheek, the sun creating a halo in his messy morning hair.

They smiled at each other for a moment, Logan didn’t even realise that he was leaning in before Patton broke the eye contact to look at the water container. It was empty.

“Darn it,” Patton said, looking back at Logan. “I’ll go get some more.”

“I’ll get it-”

“I can get it, its fine.” He beamed up at him, brighter than the sun rays that were striking to floor with their golden whips. Then he turned and headed out of the front doors to go to the stream that traipsed down the hill a couple of minutes walk away.

Logan went to knock on Virgil’s door, but it was still pretty early, they needed the sleep. The bags under their eyes had lightened significantly since Logan had found them, but they were still there. A sad reminder of that first day…. No. Not thinking about that. About the ball. About the death. No. Not death. Already dead.

Then Logan heard the door open and he ran to it, eager to take the water from Patton’s hands and lose himself in his eyes, to forget that day. But as soon as he saw him, he stopped in his tracks.

Patton was covering his face with one bloody hand, and the water container was hanging in shreds from the other. He had so much fear in his eyes. Logan reached up a hand of his own and pulled it away, then gasped and stumbled backwards.

He saw something he had hoped, that he had dreamed, he had wished that he would never see, but no one listened to the dreams of the damned. Small blotches of yellow were showing through the freckles that filled Patton’s skin, all across the bridge of his nose.

Logan didn’t look away. Instead he lost himself in the dark passages of his mind, the thing that had always managed to keep him safe, but it was becoming darker by the second. Patton didn’t look away either, but his gaze kept wondering hungrily down Logan’s face to his neck and chest.

“Virgil,” Logan shouted, but the words fought in his throat and came out a a wheeze. His breath hitched, and tears sprung into Patton’s eyes. “Virgil!” he shouted again. He heard the door open, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from Patton’s face. “Go and pack up everything, all the supplies, everything, then wait outside.” His voice was monotone and lifeless, but how the bloody hell was he supposed to inspire joy, or positivity?!

“But-”

“Now!” Logan spun around, marched forwards, and grabbed Virgil’s shoulders, wobbling slightly, so they grabbed his elbows to keep him standing. Logan looked into their eyes and knew that his own were filling with water. “Please!” They looked shocked more than scared, their eyes wide with concern. But after they saw the pure pleading that was in Logan’s own, they shrunk in on themself, and walked from the room.

When Logan turned back around, Patton was lying on the ground. “What are you doing?” he asked in a voice that was shaking with the answer that he had locked away deep in his mind.

Patton smiled up at him, but he couldnt hide the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. “You know what you have to do.”

Logan came and knelt next to him. His hands began to shake. “I cant live without…” His tears choked him, cutting off his words. He pressed his clenched fists to his forehead. He screwed his eyes shut, as if that would make it just go away! “I can’t live without you!”

Patton placed a gentle hand on his arm. Logan opened his eyes, his breath shaking, coming in small gasps. Patton smiled a watery, shivery smile, his eyes glittering. “But I can’t let you die with me.”

Logan’s carefully constructed world was closing in. He already saw the darkness beginning to creep into the corners of the brown in Patton’s. He tried to speak, but his voice had been stolen, silently ripped from his throat.

“Please,” Logan whispered, squinting at Patton’s beautiful face. He had been through so much. They had been through so much together. He couldn’t….

Patton reached up a hand and stroked Logan’s hair back from his face. He leant into the warmth of his hand, tears pooling at the corners of his mouth as his gaze once again flickered down to his neck, furthering the realisation of what he had to do.

Logan pressed his blade to Patton’s throat. It felt so cold in his hand. So cold. So empty and silver and cold. His hand shook so much that he grasped it with the other, his breath was coming in short bursts, and his back was heaving with sobs that burst from his throat like wild animals on the hunt.

“I cant…”

Patton tried to offer him a smile, and lay a hand over his eyes, like a prisoner about to be executed. Logan’s hands still shook, but he pressed down. Patton gasped. Logan whimpered. The shadows in the corners of the chapel were creeping in, wrapping their tendrils around his hands and forcing them down. And in one fluid motion, blood flowed, and the steady rise and fall coming from under his arms stopped.

An immense weight collapsed down on him, and it felt as if the roof had fallen in. Thoughts and feelings raced through his head, filling him to bursting and crushing him from the inside. Crushing him with the pain and the guilt and the love that he would never get back. With the years of hard work and the blood that stained his hands that he knew he could never wash away. With the logic that acted a scaffolding, holding up his universe, being drowned and swept away by clawing, wild, ragged grief.

He began to choke on his own tears, a gushing, swirling, monstrous river ripping through his mind. He was being washed away. He clung onto Patton’s body to stop himself from drowning, clinging to his shoulders, stroking his hair, trying to stop the crimson flood still flowing from him.

He cried. So long. So hard. He cried. He didn’t stop crying for a long time. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even try. And so he cried. He cried and screamed and hugged his boyfriend close to his chest and rocked him back and forth like a mother rocking a child. His tears seeped into his hair and spattered onto his face, coating it with a salty slick.

He didn’t let go. He couldn’t. If he did, he would surely fall.

———————————————————————-

Logan didn’t know how long he lay there, cradling Patton, pushing him away then pulling him back. He began to cough violently. Choking and spluttering chestily from his lungs, shaking his whole body.

He heard the doorknob begin to turn. “No! Don’t come in!” he shouted through the coughing.

“Do not come in!” He didn’t want Virgil to see.

“What’s going on!?” came a muffled voice from through the door. They sounded so panicked and confused.

Logan stared at Patton’s face. So beautiful. So hardened. He had been through so, so much. Almost died several times, and Logan was always there by his side! He had always been there to save him! Now he was dead. By Logan’s hand.

“I need you to go,” he said, quietly but enough for them to hear through the door. He felt dejected, drained, no energy, no life.

“What?! Why?! Where?!” Virgil cried, the doorknob turning once again.

Logan didnt want to answer his questions. He just wanted him to leave. To leave him alone with the extinguished candle that had been his last scrap of hope. “I need you to go far away, take the supplies. Find someone else like you found me.”

“I cant just go!” they cried through the door, their voice cracking with the panic. “What’s going on?”

“I wont tell you!” he cried. “Please, for my sake as much as your own, just go! Please!” Logan could hear his voice cracking, falling apart, rubbed raw, but he didn’t care. How was he supposed to keep his voice steady?! But he was always the steady one! He was always supposed to be dependable!

Slowly, the door opened. He shied away from the light, the tears in his eyes turning it into a blinding glare.

“Oh my god,” Virgil breathed, stopping in their tracks. “Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“Is he…?”

Logan tried to swallow the lump that was choking him in his throat. “Yes. He is.”

———————————————————————-

Logan couldn’t take his eyes away. He couldnt do anything but stare. He was… He was gone? How? Why? Why did he have to be taken, he hadn’t done anything to deserve this! He had always been so sweet, and kind, and… But now….

He staggered on his feet and leant on Virgil, who looped their arm under his to keep him up. They were staring too, but, unlike Logan, tears were streaming down their face. Logan had long since stopped crying. He couldn’t find it in him to cry any longer. For seven years, he had been there, and all the time before that. He couldn’t be gone! But he was.

“Come on.” Virgil’s voice was muffled and distant, as if underwater. “We cant stay here.” They led him outside and then went in to collect our belongings.

“Wait!” Logan shouted, snapping out of his haze. “We cant just leave him here!” Virgil stared at him for a moment. He was confused as for why, until he realised that he was, in fact, crying again. Something they had never seen him do in the year that they’d known each other. Logan hastily pulled his hand up to his face and rubbed the tears away, for what good would tears do? They wouldn’t bring him back.

———————————————————————-

They dug a grave. A deep pit in the arid ground. Logan went over to where Patton lay, and tried to pick him up, but his arms had gone limp, like they’d just given in. He fell backwards and sat there, tears escaping faster than he could wipe them away, twisting Patton’s loose, brown curls around and around in his hands.

Virgil stood behind him for a moment. Patton had looked after them on that first day that Logan brought them here. He had comforted them and helped them work through the loss of their family. He had always been so good at that….

After a few minutes, Virgil picked him up and took him outside, lowering him gently into the hole that they had dug. The sun glistened off his skin, lighting him up and making him glow. Logan had always been adamant that angels didn’t exist, that they were just a fantasy for the desperate, but i guess you don’t realise what you have until it’s gone.

After filling the hole back in, they left. They couldn’t stay. Too many memories. Too many…. They couldn’t stay in a place where he was gone, but where he still lived.

———————————————————————-

They didn’t know where they were going. But they knew that it wouldn’t feel like home. Not without him to a make it so. Logan had been through so much with him, and they’d made it through together. He wasn’t alone though, he had a sibling now. A sibling who had lost a brother. And a heart that had lost it’s love in a world with none to spare.

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Infection tag list: @the-blue-belle-blog @monstercupcake61176 @starryfirefliesbloggo @iolanomsgranola @mourning–star

General writing taglist: @randomavengersquotes @combine-the-kitchens @soakinforsif

Sorry if i got that wrong, i posted the first chapters a long time ago….

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