*Requested Prompt!*
Pov - Bf, 1st person.
Setting - Bf's house
Word count - 2206
⚠️ TW - A violent crash sequence, Horrific injuries, Blood, trama, language, Grief, Mentions of shooting, Character Death. ⚠️
***
Even demons could die. A lesson I only recently learned.
Sure, they are super powerful and immortal, but they can still die from unnatural causes.
Such as getting decapitated in a crash.
***
I was staring at the celing with unblinking eyes that had long been dried from shedding tears.
My filthy room smelled like a dead rat. I wouldn't be surprised if there was one in the wall at this point. Serves me right for karma to grace me with the scent of death looming over me as I fall asleep.
I'm still breathing. She isn't. She's gone. Because of me.
It was a quiet night. The stars blinked outside my window. My nieve imagination pictured her up there, looking down at me with shame. Anger. Regret.
What a boyfriend I turned out to be, driving around drunk like a fucking imbecile. She offered to call a limo, but I insisted to drive her home myself.
Such a dumbass. She always trusted you. And that's why she's gone. Relationships always end tragically with you.
It's always your fault.
I gritted my teeth and squeezed my pillow tight against my chest. I wanted to cry, but tears never fell. My throat was hoarse from screaming.
I wore a black tee and navy shorts. My favorite shirt got ruined from the accident. My torn hat was stored away in my closet. It was too painful to look at. It reminded me of her...
I should've been the one that died, not her! She wasn't even drunk! She trusted me, and I let her down! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"I'm s-soory... soo-o sor-ry..." I hiccuped in between my pathetic gasps.
There was a loud bang from the living room. I ceased my wailing and froze. The knock was in a certian pattern. There was only one person that knows that little passcode.
I really didn't want to, but I begrudgingly slid out of my unkempt bed and slithered to the front door, stepping over dirty laundry and trash.
I didn't bother to check out the window or through the spyhole on the door before I turned the handle. It was unlocked.
The hinges squealed as the door moved. At my doorstep was an all too familiar face. A face that usually helps me through traumatic times... or causes them. It was Pico.
"Blu, how ya doin'? Is your head feeling better?" The ginger asked while glancing at the bandages wrapped around my head before giving me a chance to shoo him off.
I groaned in response and turned my back, heading back to my room and leaving him standing in the open doorway looking quite dumbfounded.
He wordlessly walked inside and shut the door behind him, locking it with a loud click!
He followed me as I led him to my room. The only light in the house came from behind the drapes over the windows, glowing with the light of the full moon outside. I could see his nose scrunch from the awful smell from the kitchen. I must've left food scraps in the sink again. Whoops. I really am starting to frogot things more often.
I sat in the edge on my bed. He leaned on the door frame and looked down at me. Usually his face was unreadable, but I could clearly see his pained expression in the shadows.
"I- don't really know what happened except that you were in a car crash and..." He started, but clicked his tounge after losing his train of thought. That or he didn't know what to say to me.
I sighed and hugged myself. My gaze shifted to the floor, avoiding the ash-clored eyes that were watching me.
I don't know what to feel about this unexpected visit.
Relieved that my mind was temporarily off her passing.
Happy that I finally have company.
Furious that he thought I needed help.
Grateful because I did need it.
I'm not much of a hugger, but I needed one now. I suddenly snapped my head up, slightly startling Pico.
Normally, I would laugh at his alarmed state, taunting him, and he would laugh along to play it off. But right now I don't feel normal. I don't feel like smiling. Not anymore. I don't deserve to smile.
I spread my arms, touch-starved and desperately wanting to feel the warmth of living person.
Thankfully he understood. Kneeling down on his knees, he embraced my frail body with unusual tenderness in his burly arms. It had been years since I hugged him. It felt nice, but it wasn't enough to cheer me up. Whatever.
I pushed him away softly. It was nice to have him visit, but he should just leave me alone now. Leave me in my misery to take care of myself.
But of course his stubborn ass refused to leave. He huffed and proceeded to plop himself in the middle of my bed before reaching over to me and pulling me to him. I didn't fight back, even though it annoyed me.
My back leaned against his chest as I felt his chin rest on my head. He caressed me softly as I closed my eyes. How long was it since I slept?
Then I heard him sniffle. Huh?
I peered at his freckled face. I could just make out tears forming in the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall down onto me.
Oh. That's right. I've completely forgotten.
He's seen death his entire life. It doesn't help that he kills for a job. He's just as sensitive to this stuff I am. Probably much more.
I really am an idiot. He probably needs comfort as much as I do.
"Want to tell me about it?" He asked, his deep voice rumbled through my spine.
"Only if you tell me about yourself first." I feebly whispered. I felt his grasp around me tighten.
He murmured something under his breath.
"I've never talked about it. Not once. I guess there's a first for everything." He exhaled and stared at the wall before wiping his face on his sleeves.
"Go on," I whispered.
"No matter where I go death always followed me. I like to imagine that I'm just used to it, that's it's nothing new. The sight of blood never bothered me. But it did. It always did. You were there at the school when the shooting happened. Who would thought something horrific can happen at an elementary school? Heh..." He chucked for a second before shutting his eyes and groaning.
"I'm glad you survived and didn't see any of the dead kids in the hallways. You were lucky, but I wasn't. I mean, if I hadn't fought back, we might all be dead by now. But here we are. Still breathing, but at the cost of my innocence. And probably a small part of my sanity..." The ginger trailed off before biting his lip. I nudged him, nodding my head, urging him to continue his story.
"The shooting wasn't the end of it. I lived and hung out in a rough neighborhood, I always carried guns with me for comfort, not realizing that I would need to use them. Even when the school opened again, I continued to do stupid things." He looked down at me. "Remember rock paper scissors roulette?"
"Yeah, I always told you to stop doing that, dumbass."
"Haha, yeah. Well, my mind became numb to danger. I no longer feared death. Dying seemed almost nice after what I've gone through. I took risks that no normal person would. It was the reason you broke up with me after I became a mercenary for hire, which was completely understandable. I still can't believe I was hired to kill you once... I just... want to know if you forgive me for all I've done. I've done shitty things and you just up and left me. I have no grudge against you, but... do you have one against me? Be honest, please.
"I-" Did he not remember when I left? "Dude, you saw me leave! You were the one who told me to leave you in the first place!"
"What?" He huffed. His eyebrows were scrunched. He doesn't remember, seriously?
"Yeah, you kicked me out your house screaming at me to never come back because everyone around you ends up dead. Maybe you were just having an episode?" I suggested. He was acting strange that night. I'm still surprised he doesn't remember his outburst. I even remember that he was reaching for his guns and I just had to skidattle.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, I swear!" He sounded almost desperate as he gasped.
"Okay, I believe you!" I leaned against him and he proceeded to calm down. "I don't have any grudges against you for any reason, okay?"
"Thank you."
"Mmmhhhmmm." I hummed. We sat together in silence for a while. For the first time in a long time, I felt calm. My head was still foggy, but I felt a weight lifted off my chest that I never realized was even there.
"Your turn." Pico said, breaking the silence.
"Dang it, I thought you frogot." I joked and playfully flicked his orange hair.
"Like hell I'll frogot that. Now come on, spill it."
"Fine. I'll start at the beginning." I inhaled sharply. I've been stuck in the hospital for about a month, but it felt like yesterday since the accident.
"We were at a party being stupid. I was drinking, for the first time, actually. I felt confident, like I could take in the world between my hands. We are both idiots. She trusted me and followed me everywhere, even when she wanted to call a limo to go home, but when I declared that I'll drive her home myself, she just shrugged her shoulders and went along. And on the way to her place, I just remember seeing bright lights approaching us from across the road's median. I was seeing double, and I believed that another car was about to collide head on, so I swerved out of the way and- a- and-"
"It's okay. You can take a break and breathe. I know it's difficult, but the sooner you say something, the quicker you'll feel better. Shhhhhhh..." I quivered at his course fingers brushed through my cyan hair.
"I s-swerved to the s-side, into a t-t-tree. We wore seat belts, but it d-din't sa-save her."
"What happened. Come on, tell me." Pico urged. I really didn't want to. I couldn't. I don't want to remember... that.
"Please, Blu." He begged, calling me by my nickname. "It's okay."
"A b-branch p-pierced through her side of window and h-her...her..." I choked. Nonononono! I don't want to! NO!
"Blu. Look at me." His hands clasped my shoulders stiffly. I begrudgingly lifted my eyes to his.
"It's okay. I'm listening. I'm here."
"The branch..." I sobbed. "It- it..." I gasped for air. Pico nodded at me.
"It sliced her head off! Her fucking head, Pico!" I screamed. I swiftly buried my face into his chest before he could react, not wanting to see his expression. He was probably disgusted.
He tried to peel me off of his body, but my grip was iron-clad.
"Blu, it's okay." He tried to reassure me, rubbing my back.
"It's not!" I whined. "It's all my fault! I should've died, not her, not her!"
"Blu, what's done is done. Think about it, she would want you to keep living your life. So live. For her."
I just cried. The tears that were absent before return as a waterfall draining from my sore eyes.
"It's fine. Just let it out. You'll feel better, trust me. I always do."
And I did. I didn't care how awful I looked. I just... cried. Eventually I calmed down and fell asleep, listening to Pico's strong thrumming heartbeats. It felt nice.
***
I opened my eyes. It was a little past noon. I was on top of Pico. Both his arms were spread out across the bed, but one of his legs wrapped around my torso. It was kind of funny, actually. I couldn't help but smile.
I realized just how relaxed I felt. My head was clear and the pain in my chest had subsided. I also realized just how dirty my room was. I was also filthy. And hungry.
I tried to move out of bed without disturbing the slumbering ginger, but he groaned and snagged my wrist before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"Mmm. Stay." He commanded me like a puppy dog before stonping into the kitchen by himself. Minuets later, the tasty aroma of bacon and eggs floted to me.
Maybe he's right. She would want me to keep going. And I would. I'll do it for her. There's no reason to stay in the past. I still felt guilty, sure, but I'm still alive. The best I can do right now is live in the moment.