I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

[forthedog]

The truth is that he barely sleeps anymore. And he knows Neil knows it. He pretends, he tries to keep up the show if not the reality - but it's all crumbling.

Another truth is that a significant part of him is embarrassed that when it really comes down to it, it's taking him less than a month to completely lose his mind.

He's played through scenarios. It's what he does when he's not sleeping - he simulates things in his brain. Giving Neil the slip and vanishing into the city - no good, he'd follow. Forcing Neil to leave him somehow - again, no good; he never would. And now either of those plans wouldn't work anyway. His dark self would find Neil. Come for him. Hurt him. Worse. He'll come anyway, but if he's with Neil there might be a fighting chance.

A fighting chance. Isn't that a fucking joke.

Maybe. Maybe if they can just hold on another day. Another two. Another week.

They're curled in one of the shadowy back rooms of the church, a place that provides at least a little privacy and quiet, even if not really any more safety. Neil is breathing against his neck and hogging most of their threadbare blanket. Mike is on his back, staring at the ceiling, the wavering light of a single candle. Shapes in the dimness, moving. A shadowplay.

Son of man, he thinks - maybe he's whispering the words, exhausted beyond being sure. You cannot say or guess, for you know only a heap of broken images where the sun beats and the dead tree gives no shelter.

There's more, a lot more, but it all dies away when he hears a footstep outside the closed door.

There are other people in the church. Somehow he already knows this isn't one of them.

"Neil," he breathes. His knife, his gun. Suddenly he's not sure where either is.

Comments

[likeaplanet]

"You tryin' to get rid of me?" I tease softly, but I'm relatively steady on my feet, my eyes sliding from one curious face to the other, and offering a sneer for their trouble.

What the fuck are you lookin' at, assholes?

[forthedog]

"Seemed like it was important to you, before." He smiles faintly, slides an arm around Neil's waist anyway and pulls him closer. Even if Neil doesn't need the support... they both do, maybe.

"I feel better," he says after a moment or two, the door closer. One person is moving quickly ahead of them - maybe trying to get away with a little dignity. The door opens and the light is almost blinding, but he's not sure he's ever seen something so beautiful.

[likeaplanet]

"I was pissed at you, before," I remind him, leaning my weight against him, grateful for the support for reasons that have little to do with how fucking exhausted I am.

"We're probably not gonna fuckin' die right now, man. You better fuckin' feel better," I say with a dry cough of laughter, even though I know it's more than that. It's not like I missed out on the significance of what just happened.

[forthedog]

Light. For a moment he just stands on the steps, Neil against him, his head tipped back and his eyes mostly closed. He'd almost forgotten how it felt. The beautiful red of the brightness against his eyelids.

"Probably," he echoes softly. He opens his eyes again, focuses on the city in front of them. People, traffic, spatters of fall color, mostly clear sky and sunshine.

Cabs. They'll need one.

"It's funny," he murmurs as he starts them slowly down the steps.

[likeaplanet]

"Hilarious," I say with a snort of laughter, my head dropping over onto his shoulder, warmth leeching into my aching limbs, and suddenly I'm so tired I'm half convinced I could fall asleep standing right here.

Cutting him a look and snorting out a laugh, I say, "You look like you just fuckin' murdered somebody. We'll be lucky if we don't get a ride in a fuckin' police cruiser."

[forthedog]

"I did fucking murder somebody." He shoots Neil a look that's as speculative as it is amused. Sure, someone might start asking some awkward questions. But it's not as if they'd be able to prove anything.

It's his own blood, after all.

"I meant," he says as he edges closer to the curb, hand up for a cab - and if they actually manage to hail one of those he really will be impressed - "it's funny how maybe what I really needed to get my head outta my ass was... to be a tiny bit more of a psychopath. Go fucking figure."