gone

all donovan can do is listen as sobs wreck jack’s body,     as he slowly begins to control his breathing,     eyes melting into donovan’s.      softness and an unnamed feeling glaze his own as he keeps wiping away the tears,     his own heart beating rapidly in his chest as the claw of anxiety reaches in with its poisonous thoughts:     you made him cry,    you’re at fault,    you’re disturbed,    he’ll leave you now,    he’s sick of you.      even as jack kisses his hand,    as he repeats the word never,     donovan doubts it.     he’s ready to retract within himself and begin to ignore the overwhelming emotion that takes over;    unlike anxiety,    it actually makes him sick.     relief.   he’s overcome with relief.    jack’s kisses on his skin feel cold and refreshing and donovan wants to feel them with his own,   wants to wrap his arms around jack again and hold him there and make him promise to never fucking leave.

“  the world— ? ”      confusion takes over before he can pull jack into his arms.    he doesn’t expect the rage,    the loss in control.    complete stillness controls him and he’s left staring at where jack was sitting next to him,    barely hearing his steps as he exits the garage.      again,   the claw wins and his heart begins racing once more as his thoughts run wild,    faster than the rain hitting the ground,    faster than the lightning colouring the night sky in silver tendrils.     donovan flinches when jack’s voice raises above the wrath of nature and he sharply turns his head to see him screaming at a god who did nothing but wrong him.     the demigod never dared to ask more than what jack offered to tell him.    most of the stories he knew from bedtime stories,   from cartoons and proverbs,    though donovan always reminded himself that there is more to jack than a fun story to tell before sleep;     the confirmation is right in front of him,   ringing in his ears like a drum.      

when jack falls to the ground that’s when donovan raises from the mattress,   rushing to the other but ultimately freezes again just outside the door.   jack is in love with donovan and he’d yelled it at a god.    donovan feels every bit of divinity inside of him boil to surface,    ichor filling his mouth.     his heart calls out for jack and makes every nerve in his body ache for jack’s touch,    makes him want to hear it again.    and again.   and again.   there is someone in the world who loves him.    there is someone in the world who would take down a god out of love for him.    donovan’s knees buckle as he steps closer,    welcoming the rain.    its drops hide how his own eyes burn when he rests an arm around jack’s shoulders and whispers,       “  we’re both free.  ”

donovan never knew love.    ever since he was young,    the people supposed to protect him turned out to be the ones hurting him most.     his mother opened the door to so many strangers and allowed them to cause him pain,   to make him fear everyone.   silenced,    beaten,    thrown,    touched when he wanted nothing but peace    –   all of these added to the poison his father let him inherit.    the one good fucking thing dionysus ever did was give him the power to free himself from nadya’s leash.    madness,   madness,   he always felt one step away from falling into unbridled madness.   when him and jack found each other,   donovan was held together only by the maenads who struggled to understand him and give him comfort.     jack appeared into his life just before donovan was about to lose all hope.

now they are both free.   from gods,   from fears, from everything.

“   come on,  ”    a quiet but firm command as he forces jack up on his feet.     when jack is standing up,   donovan grabs his cheeks and rests their foreheads together,   burning determination in those mismatched eyes of his.      “  look at me. you’ve always been free.     no fucking god can control you,   or me.  ”     donovan runs his thumbs over jack’s cheeks,    not caring for how the rain drenches them to the skin.      he’ll give jack everything he has,    even if it’s not much.     a bruised heart,    a broken sense of self,    a twisted sense of affection.   but jack will have it all.       “  and so long as i’m here,   i’ll fucking kill them with my own hands if they hurt you.    you got it?  ”     the words are almost a low growl,    a threat to any gods listening.    a sober donovan is a deadly weapon,     enough to make a god look away and shudder.     poison boils in his blood and he has to breathe deeply to control the rush of power.      his hands tremble on jack’s face but he doesn’t pull away.     instead he pulls him closer and seals his lips with a hard kiss,     hands snaking up to jack’s wet hair and holding it tightly.    the rain slows down as their lips move together,    warmth and cold melting together,    and they do not stop until the storm slows to a sweet pitter-patter.     only then does donovan pull away,    every inch of his body shaking with the cold,   with the emotion and desire that fills him.

“   you have me,    jack.     you have me. ”      all of me.   i love you,   too.

𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒. That is all Jack feels as he stares blankly at his twitching fingers, his sore skin that is covered with useless dirt and emerald stains from torn out grasses. It has always been that way. ( WITH THESE TALES, THESE SONGS, THESE TERRIBLE “WHAT IF”’S, THE WORLD MADE ME BECOME THE WINTER, THE THIEF OF SKIN AND FIRE. I WAS MADE TO STEAL THE LIGHTS AND BURN THE BODIES, AND ALL I CAN FEEL IS N O T H I N G. ) Perhaps, his aches speak in the whimpers of desperation, yet while the thunders only tear the sky apart, he expects some sort of glory from his outburst at God. He had never once dared himself to look at the sky and smile, laugh as if there are no eyes in the stars, the clouds, anywhere where there are heavenly homes for the powerful, trembling hearts. ( The deities were the ones to had invented abandonment, and it is tragically beautiful for what it can do to anyone so easily. )

Though there is nothing out there for Jack to gain. Nothing but r a g e. He continues to slaughter the plants beneath his body, wash his hands with more of nature’s haunted colours, shaken with violence at the sinking realization that no matter what he will do or say to God, hymns will only be water to the dried throats, sacrifices will only be food to the starving bellies; he soon learns that to become a God means to be forever hungry for what can not be defined as enough to their celestial mind. Why would God want to create the Universe? ( To create what will simply devolve into things for Him to feast on before the apocalypse. ) A dark limb reaches over to his shoulder and he flinches at the sudden contact, heavier than the rain it is, it is skin and warm and terribly familiar, yet he can not find himself moving away from it. Instead, he whimpers loudly, believing that this will be the moment God have enough of him. He shuts his eyes and meets the darkness, his final end.

Then a voice comes.

“We’re both free.”

Jack slowly turns and finds the man on his knees beside him. He stares in confusion when, at first, he does not recognize Donovan; the absence of his shit-eating grins, the ever consuming mischief in his eyes. There is only understanding from a place he does not know fully of, but can still sense its loneliness and suffering. It reminds Jack that he is not alone... that Donovan is here. Remembering how he had let him go at the garage, he gasps, now recognizing Donovan at last. He clings onto him once again, whispering only apologies to him for making him think that he would leave him, for making him believe that he would even think of abandoning him; then eventually, for existing. Though the burning words die down in his throat at the command as he is placed back to his feet. The world sways with everything spinning while he is standing perfectly still, and suddenly, Jack finds his forehead resting against Donovan’s and his gaze melts into the determination that is made out of love.

With widen eyes, his pants heavy and painful, he listens to Donovan, looks at him like he only matters to him in this damned universe. Donovan does matter to him. The world Jack stands on is no longer a place where he can find anything familiar to him, yet there is Donovan, his shadows, his dreams, his home. Donovan has always been a reason why he can endure the endings of the days, the beginnings from something tragic, because he had taught him believe in himself through the light to darkness, despite the harshness in his words. Still, they belong to love so twisted and distorted, and that will always be enough to Jack. So he nods furiously when asked at the end, unable to speak when he is amazed at how hellbent Donovan is to protect him from the world, both mankind and deities. From Hell to Heaven, Donovan would be there for and with him, and as Jack let his hands on his cheeks, he hopes Donovan knows he would do the same to him, regardless of anything.

They are truly free, and because of the love they have for each other, they are unstoppable.

Jack kisses Donovan back, softly moaning at the grip in his hair. His hands land on his back, clenching his shirt and skin as he presses his weight against to him, wanting to be held more closely to his heart. Listen to it sing out of joy while the deities watch their act from the above and the below. This is love, he thinks, feeling the rush of euphoria through him from Donovan who have done nothing but given kindness to him. This is love, he believes, and there are tears dwelling in his eyes again, though not out of pain, but joy that he can relearn what love is. Understand it better that Donovan, and only him, is what love means, and nothing and no one can ever take that meaning away from him. Not when Jack is still standing and breathing, despite it all. ( LET THE DEITIES WITNESS US AS WE SPILL OUR BLOOD IN THE NAME OF DEVOTION. WE WILL MAKE OUR OWN WORSHIPS, TURN THEM INTO WARMTH, AND WE WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH IT FOR EACH OTHER TODAY, TOMORROW, FOREVER. )

“Jack... have Donovan t-too,” he replies to him, breathless, feeble, but the words still stand as a promise. He notices how the rain slows then and when he glances at the sky, he weakly smiles, feeling only the eyes of Donovan on him. Nothing and no one else, but just Donovan. His shadows, his dreams, his home. “Let’s go - let’s go home,” mutters Jack, looking back at Donovan and himself. He winces, fully taking in how soaked both of their clothes are. He wonders if Donovan have any extra clothes. Though to think he would wear them, he shuffles his feet in shyness while absently, he takes him by his hand, letting his warmth take him in the gentlest way possible. He leads themselves back to the garage, neither of them being in front of or behind each other, but they walk by each other’s side. They are together now, so together, they will live, and together, they will be okay in the end.

“Ah, you’re here! You’re here!” Delight steals Epimetheus’ voice, it touches the reality with nothing but a sense of home. Childlike warmth spreads from his presence while he shakily holds up the black box to Newton. He had already given his own parts of love to his brothers, so it is time for him to reach out to the others. Though he hopes with Newton, it is a good one. He smiles sheepishly at him when he thinks about the timing. “I apologize if I’m interrupting you or anything, but I made something for you as a thank you gift for your services and being a lovely friend to me!”

When Newton opens it, he will find a bracelet made in silver, gleaming softly under the ceiling lights. There are several coloured charms of the Kaijus’ heads adorned around it, one from each category that Epimetheus believes he would like the most. It is light to be worn, though the effort of making it is full of love. It should bring the familiar warmth in the chest despite the small weight the bracelet bears of. With the details of the charm, it certainly took a while for Epimetheus to get it done, but the impatience and frustration from the work was worth it.

Epimetheus fidgets as he waits, his feet bouncing on the floor in anticipation.

“I hope you like it!”

At the gentle kiss on Their cheek, Noble gives out a soft toy squeak in surprise, quickly glancing away from Their book to stare at Dahlia, with widened starry eyes and vessel full of warmth that is dearly made by Dahlia’s affection. Though, They don’t mind the sudden contact, certainly not when They lean closer to her touch, wanting more from her as an absentminded smile spreads across Their face.

When Dahlia moves her hand away from Their messy hair, Their fingers quickly catch hers and locked them together. To feel her pulses right under Their palms, to know that she is still here despite everything, and to believe that the world is fortunate enough to even see her gentle lights, They sigh fondly before They pull her closer to Them, having her sit beside Them. A moment of admiring her passes by with a kiss on her forehead.

𝐀 𝐇𝐔𝐅𝐅 𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌. Exhaustion has already seeped into his bones, weight forms within as Epimetheus inhales annoyance. He had been struggling pushing the door to enter the mall for several seconds until a realization of having to pull it struck in the chaotic mind. ( Thankfully, it did in time, otherwise, he would had broken the door with his great strength. )

“I don’t like doors,” Epimetheus bluntly states the obvious, shaking his head with his hands clenched by his sides, holding back the desire to actually break any of those terrible doors nearby now that he is in the mall at last. “Why can’t we have automatic doors in... well, everywhere? It would save people like me some trouble,” he whines, as if that thought not being a part of the reality would bring the end to the world.

Because Epimetheus is an identical twin brother to Prometheus, I like the idea that while Prometheus would see the future, Epimetheus can see the past through dreams. This usually happens if he experiences an event with someone, regardless of how close he is to them, only one time that had happened repeatedly or similarly in the past that can hold a significant history that would had greatly affected or changed them in any shape or form ( ex. being kissed by a loved one, then dreams of them kissing their previous lovers; seeing someone getting into a fight, then dreams of them in their previous fights; etcetera ). He wouldn’t ever use these information for his own gains like Prometheus, but unlike him, unless it’s a traumatic event, he is rather outspoken about the dreams he would get of others’ past events and would like to talk about them to others, out of curiosity or desire to help rather than malice, however.