A drop here, a drop there (a one-shots/snippet book)

Kevin (WtNV; vignettes)

1. A shaking hand clutched over his chest, wrinkling the fabric between fingers curved to claws. His breath hitched, his shoulders hunched over slightly, bowing into this heaviness that suddenly draped itself over him. In his other hand was a piece of paper.

A letter.

"I'm...sad..." He but his lip, and his voice shook, "I don't like this. I-I don't-!"

He dropped the letter and straightened up, inhaling through his nose as he did so. He shakily went through his broadcast and finished it with his personal sign off and a tune. But as the ON AIR signed switched off, he gasped and bowed over his desk, his hand clawing at his chest once again.

It hurts. Why does it hurt? His empty eyes burned with a phantom pain that accomplishes nothing.

He can't cry, after all. Not anymore.

Kevin is... Kevin is sad. No, he shouldn't. He shouldn't be sad. He's not allowed to. Station management–

Isn't here.

Strexcorp isn't here.

Carlos isn't here.

Nobody is here.

Only Kevin.

Kevin is alone.

So Kevin shook without tears, just an overwhelming loneliness and a room that felt so so empty.

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2. The desert is a graveyard. Containing in its sands the things that had been and never will be, it stood as a vast unending memoir. Cold and endless, despite the warmth of the sun and the playful twinkling of stars at night.

The light at the top of the mountain blinked on and off, its source as unknown and mysterious as the fate of this world. Though, Kevin sometimes liked to think that this world is what the Smiling God left after It devoured everything. But, nothing would've been left if the Smiling God had come with Its holy light, so that remained an idle thought between all other thoughts in quiet moments.

Kevin had a lot of quiet moments. His life is now made up of quiet moments.

He was broken out of his trance at the sound of skittering that passed near his hand. The slight shift of sand beneath skin making him look away from the sun, down to a small lizard-like creature. It now rested on a rock, looking at him with unblinking eyes.

A sudden, quick movement, and it no longer had the ability to even see, much less stare. His hand is red, and he stored the small body in a pouch. Kevin lifted his head and stared straight at the sun.

Time passed, his shadow moved behind him.

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3. Sometimes, every other month or year or so, the great masked army would visit him. Their arrival would be heralded with the sound of massive footsteps, loud and muffled by the sand, and Kevin would stir from where he was that day to greet them.

They found his fascination with blood funny, like he was a little animal with a habit that would've been disturbing if it belonged to a bigger and more dangerous animal. But since he was literally tiny compared to them, Kevin suspected they just found him adorably amusing. They would bring him gifts like a dead giant (giant for Kevin, that is) lizard and sprinkle some of its blood on him from their massive fingers.