SCP Foundation Oneshots

Cold eyes make way to cold hearts

Cerulian.

Specifically a shade just under deep sky and right above baby blue, cerulian. Cold and unforgiving but gentle and soft at the same time, like the eye of a albugineous snow storm.

That is Dr. Julian Iceberg in one sentence.

He was found on a Military base, left in the care of the SCP Foundation when his skills were shown.

What was left on the Hill of the burning military building.
Contemplating take-off of the roof.
Powered by misogyny and hatred.
Like it was some kind of joke clear for all to see. 
Some jokes are sick 
some scary 
some theatrical … 
… and some all three. 

And yet Gears fell hard, contorted to the will of his own pale blue assistant. He could no longer find the strength to hide away from him, his limbs and bones stayed in place under every soft gaze and fidgiting stare and could never find the heart to tell him to stop. To turn back while he could.

He really should have.

Iceberg was never always as blank and stotic, he used to be a bright bundle of emotions, like a flurry of bright blues against the white cacophony that made up the walls of the Foundation.

He was expressive, lips dawning a new idea or a soft reply that brightened up the already blinding walls that encompassed them all in its surrounding grasp.

He was bright, smart, full of witty jokes and shrill replies, hands always moving animatedly when he spoke. He was his complete opposite, the bright bird flying free compared to Gear's melancholy black raven, trapped in the jaws of a cage most foul.

And he dragged him down with him.

He still gets those little expressive emotions from time to time, small content smiles late at night and sharp cool glances that spoke hundreds of words in only a short second. But they were never the same, never as bright as they once were.

How could he have not seen this? How could he, one who promised and gave up his heart and soul, not seen the inner turmoil taking over his mind?

He could handle it, he was used to it, it was normal and common and he never listened. Why did he expect witty little Iceberg to be the same?

Gears pressed his face closer into Iceberg's neck, rocking him gently as his listened to the heartwrenching sobs escaping the chapped lips of his lover, crystalline teardrops landing softly against the ground in a frozed mass. The gun was cold, his hand intertwined with Iceberg's freezing grip as he gently tugged it away from Iceberg's temple. He could feel the trembling of Iceberg's hand trying to fight him, trying to press the metal back to his head.

He could feel his hand tremble at the feel of chilly healing scars across Iceberg's wrist, rising up against the rest of Iceberg's frail wrist to remind Gears of what he almost lost to his blindness.

Soothing words and gentle touches wouldn't be enough anymore.

His lover was freezing over.

Gears pressed a chaste kiss against Iceberg's temple, letting the man fall and clutch his chest. It hurt his stolen heart hearing the muffled cries of 'why?'s escaping a frozen over throat.

He could feel Iceberg's hand beating against his chest, he could feel the cold spreading from Iceberg's touch and yet never pulled away, only tugged the man closer after dropping the gun.

He pressed his head against Iceberg's, feeling the slowing of his ever beating heart and the exasperated pants turning into soft puffs against his neck that signalled the contentness of a long needed rest.

Gears closed his eyes and let himself slowly smile, feeling the touch of his lover relaxing under his grip. Tears that used to flow now melting against the carpet by a discarded pistol.

"I'll fix myself. I'll fix both of us. Just for you."

(i finally did it, got out of my damn writer's block so I hope you like this bb because idk if this is what you wanted)