#askscientistcarlos

[12:27:18 AM] *** Overdose of Shotgun has changed the conversation topic to "Preservation" *** [12:27:42 AM] Overdose of Shotgun: It was late. It was late and he was lost. He had so much in his head, Chris came up again, his own death, and yet he was here and Chris wasn't. Then there was matters with Devang. Seh was gone. Gone gone gone, and so was their baby. Their family was falling apart, Eli went down with her, he didn't know how it happened.

Other than maybe he fucked something up, Eli went the wrong route, Pluto suddenly stopped doing what it was he did? And it was like the world was ending. Devang and Eli burned alive in that fire of Eli's, and Steve was drunk as a skunk and just stumbling into the house at that point.

He couldn't do this anymore, he couldn't lose anymore people, let alone to outside sources beyond his control, but that was why he had his own two hands, his own muscle, his own breath, his own voice. So he went to the kitchen.

Start dinner, No doubt Carlos would show up the second he realized Steve came home. He'd let the man come to him. He'd preserve their love forever, and he wouldn't let some unfortunate event taint what he had left.

Just to make sure, of course, that he was hurt, he took a pan, and slammed it into the sink as hard as he could, denting the metal as it slammed, and he settled with a steak on the cutting board.

Come on Carlos. Lets see you. He'd never told Carlos where he was going, that he'd be drinking, ohhh... his husband was in for a surprise. [12:35:21 AM] #SPACETHEATER: Steve was home.

The last lord knows how long had been hell, moreso for Steve than Carlos, but watching his husband crumble like that fucking ate him alive from the inside out. And it was awful. So many, so many they knew, they loved, they cared about, just. Just fucking gone, gone like that, and how it happened, Carlos didn't know and didn't care to know.

He just wanted to know why. Why us, why them, whywhywhywhywhy.

He started more intensive therapy, more medicine to handle the grief and the anxiety and the attacks and this and that and he was actually doing. Okay.

Well, not okay, but better than he would have a month ago, a year ago. He was going to be okay. He still had Steve, and that was what mattered.

Steve was home. Carlos rose from the couch, quiet and cautious, a smile on his face until he heard that /BANG/, metal on metal and his heard was in his throat and Carlos ran in, eyes wide. "Steve? Steve, what the hell was that, what happened, are you okay?" Right over to inspect the man, make sure he was alright. "Where did you go, I was worried. Are you alright?" [12:42:26 AM] Overdose of Shotgun: Right on cue, his husband was in the kitchen and that man... the very love of his crumbling, disgusting life, was right there. Rightthere, and he turned and took Carlos face in his hands, his thumbs running right under his eyes. He had to do something, anything, and his mind was so far in morbid territory that there was nothing he could do that was right, anymore.

It was all disgusting, vile things, and he looked his husband up and down. "Hand slipped. Have I ever told'ya how beautiful y' are?" He asked quietly for a moment, before removing those glasses from Carlos face. "How beautiful them eyes'a yers are, t' me? An how beautiful that pain an sorrow is, no matter what?"

His fingers twitched, and he just smiled, and maybe he had a lot of cocaine in his system to go with the booze, maybe he was hitting the brick wall so hard he felt dead already.

He just. Waiting for that answer, preparing himself for what he was about to do. [12:47:11 AM] #SPACETHEATER: Something was wrong. Steve smelled like alcohol and his speech was funny and Carlos just. Stared, frown slowly growing deeper. He pulled back a bit, looking almost offended, right then. "I'm sure you have, darling, but, more importantly." His look grew more concerned more deeply actually /hurt/. More than a little scared for them and their future because what the fuck were they going to do if they fell into old patterns. They had to move FORWARD, not backwards. He couldn't do that again. He couldn't.

"More importantly..." Christ, he almost didn't want to ask. But he did, anyway, resting his hands over Steve's own. "Are you drunk? Steve. Did you go to a bar, or something?" All he could smell was fucking booze and it was making him sick because holy shit he couldn't lose Steve too not like that not like this pleasepleaseplease no more. [12:50:15 AM] Overdose of Shotgun: He looked at Carlos for a long moment and wound up snorting, laughing. "'Course I fuckin' did. E'erythin's goin' t' shhhhit so why not?" And he pulled Carlos in for a moment, and he kissed him, and he kissed him hard. Everything ached, and nothing made sense besides the screaming thoughts.

Killhim, killhim, then yourself, be together forever too. Yesyesyes. And he would be beautiful dead, he was always beautiful, but forever more so the more painful emotion etched into that beautiful face. Steve spoke against his mouth. "I just can't lose y' too... not like them, not t' anythin'... Can't an won't let it happen, yanno? Jus' can't." [12:54:44 AM] #SPACETHEATER: He understood, he understood, he definitely understood and really, the only thing getting Carlos out of bed in the morning, at any time of day. Stopped him from laying in bed and wondering where his whole damn life went wrong and why he was so fucking useless he couldn't even help his goddamned husband, couldn't stop him from drinking, couldn't stop him from going out couldn't stop his people from dying. What could he do?

Fucking nothing.

Useless, always useless.

Carlos shook his head and pressed a hand against Steve's chest, just looking away. "Don't do this to me, not when you're like this. Sober up and we can talk." He'd be standing firm on that. He wasn't going to reward Steve in any way for this, not at all. He was a grown man on the verge of fucking tears and he couldn't see shit without his glasses so he just reached for those in hopes of retreating back to the couch. [1:00:28 AM] Overdose of Shotgun: His lips twitched, what? Really? His eyes went to the counter top before he acted. Without remorse, without hesitation, it was the right thing, he had to do it, and it was going to happen regardless. All his strength went back into his arms, he gripped and got his hand into the hair at the back of his head, before smashing Carlos' face into the counter top.

Against the knife.

Against the cutting board.

And he through him towards the floor. "I love you so much, you know? I do, I really, really love you. You're all I've got left baby I... I can't lose you. Not like that. Not to anyone." He grabbed the blade from the cutting board, and turned towards where Carlos was hopefully on the ground. [1:06:13 AM] #SPACETHEATER: It happened fast, it happened so fucking fast and Carlos couldn't have seen it coming. Steve was usually so good about this stuff, he always backed off when Carlos said to, he respected and listened and did as he was told but suddenly it was all fucking different and Carlos didn't even have time to scream.

A sick c r u n ch of his nose against the counter, blood fucking everywhere as he was hit off sharp metal and hard surfaces and then he was on the ground, dizzy, unsure what the fuck was going on, and when he managed to sit up and lean over, blood and saliva dripping s l o w out of his mouth and just flowing from his nose and when he looked up.

There was Steve.

There was Steve with his words what the fuck were those words what was he saying and.

Was that a knife?

That was a knife.

Carlos couldn't move, he just stared up with Steve, fucking petrified, paralyzed. Was this really happening? It was all so fucking surreal and he just. Couldn't. Believe it. "St...Eve? Steve? Wh-what're you do-igh?" Fuck, it was hard to talk like that, his lip swelling up already where he'd bitten it with that SMASH, blood in his mouth holy shit there was so much blood there was so much fucking blood and it was all his. [1:10:18 AM] Overdose of Shotgun: Steve just... moved closer to him. So beautiful, the way his voice croaked and it brought tears to his eyes, a choked sob as he smiled and shook his head. "I can't. I can't lose ya. I won't. I'll take y' myself. I love y' so much, no one's ever gonna take you 'way from me."

A foot, still garbed in a work boot swung, kicked him in the face. Get down. He was right over top of him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, using it to readjust him, get him how he wanted, and h slapped Carlos across the face just as hard.

"Look at me baby-- Look at me-- LOOK AT ME." He snapped, settling to kneel over him. "Lookit me, tell me y' love me, that we'll always be t'gether." [1:16:31 AM] #SPACETHEATER: He was shaking. Bleeding and shaking and here was a boot in his fucking face and he was DOWN. Dazed and hurting and there were tears then, again, threatening to fall. This couldn't be real this couldn't this couldn't b e. He closed his eyes and looked away, shaking his head, whole body trembling with suppressed sobs. "SSssteve, Steve... Why, p-please don' do this."

And then he dared to look at him and there was all of that hurt that Steve wanted. There was hurt and fear and confusion and grief, so much grief because holy shit, maybe he'd already lost Steve. Maybe he'd already lost him, there was no way this was him. Steve wouldn't hurt him like this, he couldn't bear to, Carlos /knew/ that.

He stared at Steve, desperate, bloody, moving one shaking hand over his mouth as he tried to clear his head but the whole room was spinning and he was pretty sure a few teeth were loose. "I l- I love you and we'll always b-be together. Are you going to kill me?" His voice fucking cracked like he was 20 years younger and he almost wished he were because then at least he wouldn't have known Steve. What was this, what was this he didn't know what he was feeling.

Fear.

Pain.

Betrayal.

"Don't do this, baby, /please/ don't. I love you, I love you so much, please think about what you're doing, Steve! You're not rational right now, /please/, p-put the knife away and we can just go to bed and sleep and relax all day tomorrow, okay? Watch movies on TV and I'll read to you and- Steve, /please/." [1:46:30 AM] Overdose of Shotgun: Everything in his head was a tidal wave of pain and question and what did he do, he had to , he had no choice because it was the only way it could be, it aws the only way it could ever be to keep his heart in tact. His hands caught Carlos hair, and slammed the back of his head against the floor.

"Don't try t' talk me outta it. We're both gonna die, I jus' gonna preserve what I go t first, yanno?" And he had that knife and again, there wasn't an ounce of hesitation as he stabbed Carlos right in the eye. He felt that sandy scrape against bone and twisted it, ripping the first mangled eye out with ahand at his jaw to keep his head still, knees on his shoulders.

"I can't look at those beautiful eyes of yours anymorebaby, they see too too too much. I don't want y' to see what kinda monster I am, jus' see th' good 'm doin' in takin' us both 'way." [1:54:17 AM] #SPACETHEATER: And the room was spinning again, everything dazed, out of focus, pain. "B-baby, Steve? P-please, don-"

His words were cut off by a choked gasp followed quickly by a harsh scream that tore through his throat as he jerked and struggled away, his other eye wide open and there was blood and pain and darkdarkdarkdarkdark there and he was sobbing, just looking up at Steve, staring at him, blubbering.

/Begging/.

"Baby, please stop, nononononono, Steve, don't DO this, this isn't right, you know it's not, Steve please, I don't want to, I'm not ready, I /LOVE/ you, you can't do this to me, you can't do this to us, baby PLEASE!!"

He was so scared. Where was his phone where was his phone everything was pain and dizzy and far away and what if he just let him do it what if what if what if.

He didn't want to be dead. He was scared to die. Steve had always made him want to /live/, to be alive, to experience everything he could in what time they had left and just to be with him and now he was bruised and bloodied on the floor and the love of his fucking life was going to kill him, kill them both?

He didn't know.

He didn't want this. [2:37:49 PM] Overdose of Shotgun: There was too much noise, too much noise with that mans voice. He couldn't hear it, he couldn't stomach it and he needed to stop. Needed to shut up and stop struggling. Steve's mind was rippled and torn. He hadn't taken his meds since the final end. Everything in that house was d e a d, he needed to do this.

He needed that final control. He couldn't... He needed to and he couldn't have Carlos telling him otherwise. The struggle got Steve bracing himself, removing that place from Carlos' eye socket and he slammed his husbands head one more time, back, hard. Split. Crack.

Stop moving.

And up he was, staggering to the counter, hands shaking, drugs fucking RUSHING through his system, and he yanked out the meat tenderizer. He's going to make him quiet. Make hi understand, he needs to kee his mouth shut now.

He was back on Carlos, working to his hold of his jaw, stay still, stay STILL, and brought the hammered utensil down onto his mouth, he'll knock all those teeth right the fuck out. [2:44:31 PM] #SPACETHEATER: He was crying, but maybe not as much as he felt he should be. This was a tragedy, this was the end, this was all of his worst dreams coming true, nightmares so terrible he hadn't even dared to dream. Steve had always been there for him, always been his rock and Carlos had been his and suddenly his rock had broken and Steve was taking Carlos down with him.

Pain and blood and darkness and he was drowning. He felt his jaw /crack/, something far too familiar as that metal in one half of his fucking face jarred against the bone, as his teeth caved in and he fucking swallowed some, choked on them, coughed and coughed and coughed and everything was /blood/ and holy shit if he survived this, if he survived his husband, well...

He wasn't sure he wanted to survive this, anymore.

Carlos still made sounds, though. Cries of pain, faint groans and choked sobs. Gagging and spitting and coughing and gurgling and he hurt so much he really did and he looked at Steve still with that remaining eye of his asking WhyWhyWhyWhyWhy, trying to speak to Steve through that. One hand reached weak to touch at his arm, just rest there, shaking. I love you, ple ase d o n't, Steve. Pl ease. He just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be happy and Steve was the only one who could do that and suddenly. Suddenly.

Suddenly.

Even that was gone. [2:54:43 PM] Overdose of Shotgun: He smiled still an really, through it he was crying, this was all he had left to do, all he had left in his bones. He was a dead man with a dead family but a so, so, so alive husband. No more. No more. Lifting a hand he cupped Carlos' face and he laughed a bitter, hysterical laugh. "You are so beautiful, yer so beautiful, an yer mine. I promise, i's only gonna hurt fer a little bit. Jus' a little bit."

His fingers pushed the mans hair back soothingly. Soft touches against all that rough pain, and he dipped his head, kissing that mouth, full of blood. BUbbling, burbling, spilling over

And he kissed him, tongue and teeth, his hands dropping the tenderizer beside his husband, the knife was at the otherwise as well, within reach, but Steve wasn't worried, he knew his husband understood despite the protests in the beginning. "You don't have to be afraid none baby..." He muttered against the thick blood, soft, split lips.

"We'er gonna be with 'em soon. All'a them. We'll all be t'gether, an we ain't gonna have t' worry none fer death, 'r danger 'r pain. Yer welcome baby... yer welcome." He whispered, stopping with his actions so far, admiring. [3:00:53 PM] #SPACETHEATER: Carlos shook his head, weeping softly, pushing back against Steve. No, non o no no no no no no, this was fucking crazy, this was fucking /crazy/. Why. Why why why, what could he have done here? He knew Steve was so, /so/ attached to his people, his /family/, and Carlow was too, don't get him wrong, but for Steve? They were his /life/.

And they were dead except for Carlos and Carlos... Wasn't enough. He hadn't done enough, hadn't been there enough, hadn't supported Steve enough, watched him close enough, carefully enough.

And this? This was his punishment. His reward.

He burbled out toothless, broken apologies, pushing back at Steve and crying, his empty eye shut the best he could have it and he was drowning in blood and he just wanted to know what he could have done to prevented this. He hurt, he hurt so bad. He was so scared to die, Carlos was so scared. Life after death was a concept Carlos was... Skeptical of, really. He knew some came BACK to life after death, but to him? Death was nothing. Eternal nothingness, nonexistence.

There would be no 'together', there wouldn't be anything.

He couldn't speak, it hurt too badly, and fuck, the room was spinning and he was on the verge of passing out. He didn't, though. Had to stay awake, had to get Steve to /stop/. Beg him, push him away and /look at him/.

Please.

Stop.

I love you.

I need you.

P l e a s e. [3:05:00 PM] Overdose of Shotgun: His fingers pushed through Carlos' hair and he breathed soft against his mouth, against the apologies before he was moving away to turn him over until his belly, hands around his face, fingers digging into the remaining eye, just pushing right in to try and pull it out. "How 'bout one more go, 'fore we go? Whaddya say baby?" He choked out, brain buzzing.

Too much in his system, too much, he squeezed till that audible squelch came, eye popping in the socket as one hand went down, pulling Carlos' hips up to work at his pants, pull at them any fasten undone, fabric being yanked down iwth both hands when he was done with that eye.

"One more. One more." [3:10:04 PM] #SPACETHEATER: A strangled scream came from deeep in Carlos's throat and he just started trying to pull himself away. Panicked sobbing and he shook his head, nonononono let him go let him go. He swatted back at Steve's hands, his face, okay fuck nonviolence he didn't.

Want this he was done he was done he was done. He was past the point in his life where he was willing to just lay down and die, even at the hands of his husband. Steve, /Steve/. His Steve, his sun and his life and his everything and now Carlos had nothing but that was okay. That was okay.

If he was going to go, it'd be his own damn way. Not like this. Not like this not like this please no don't touch me let me /go/, Steve.

He wished he could speak. He could scream, though. He could scream and shout and yell and they didn't have any real fucking neighbors to hear him he was doomed he was fucking doomed, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. Try to pick himself up and run, run the fuck away and he c ou l d n 't s ee . He couldn't see he couldn't see. Some of the crushed, gelatin remains of his eyeball d r i p pe d down his face with the blood and no. No. No more, no more.

No more. [3:15:10 PM] Overdose of Shotgun: He growled, the struggle then was too much and he reeled back, punching him riiiight in the back of his head, fist slamming in. His arm curled around his waist tight to keep him there, pull his back. "Get th' fuck back here, where d' you think yer goin'." He hissed and he worked at his own pants.

Get them down, get his cock out, and he did, stroking himself. "Fuckin' stop... Don' be dramatic babe, y'know we ain't gonna get 'nother chance after this... Gonna make th' best'a it, yer jus' so beautiful." He shook his head pulling, tugging, administering another slam of his fist to the back of the mans head.

He needed this, and then he'd kill him, and he'd have him forever. Hishishis. [3:20:45 PM] #SPACETHEATER: Carlos stopped moving, then. He stopped moving. He hurt too much and he was just. Fading in an out of consciousness. it was too much. It was too much. He stopped moving and just lay there, blind and mute but he could still hear Steve, and it was his husband's voice, it was the voice of the man he loved and all Carlos could do was cry.

Don't be dramatic. Don't be dramatic, Steve, he didn't. He didn't want this. He didn't want this.

He wondered if he just screamed loud enough, if he kicked and fought and spat.

He dreamed in and out of the happier times. Pancakes and Chris and fucks in the back of Steve's car and fucking in the bathroom during a movie and grinding against each other in bed and that night out in the Wastes under the stars and the void and a ring and Ireland and each kiss, each fucking kiss and Christmas, their last in Night Vale, and every dance and the songs Steve would sing in his ear, he dreamed of those memories.

Where was that man, now.

Maybe Steve was right. Maybe if he just let him . Ki ll h im. They'd be able to be together again. Happy in death.

He didn't want that.

And though it did nothing for him, Carlos closed his eyes. And waited. [3:26:21 PM] Overdose of Shotgun: With Carlos slack, he was able to angle him how he wanted him, and he kissed his husband, kissed his neck, pulled his hips juuuust how he needed, and he was pushing in without bothering to wait. Lined up, and pushed into him. Right to the hilt and it was dry and painful, but it wasn't dry for long. Nnnnoooo, no it wasn't... because the walls of his ass split and Steve sobbed into his shoulder.

Hips rolling, fucking into him, he breated out harsh. "I love you. I love you. I'm so sorry, I love you." His hips rocked and he felt the way the will bled out of Carlos. Out of his eyes, his nose, his mouth. His heart. Steve sobbed out harder and bit into the mans shoulder.

Soon. Soon.

Soon.

They'd be together in a better place soon. [3:31:32 PM] #SPACETHEATER: It hurt, but everything hurt at that point. His heart, most of all. Figuratively and literally, there was this ache in this chest, deep, deep in there, one that he was familiar with but not so badly. Not so deeply not so wholly. He shook and he cried, half trying to curl away.

He loved this man, he loved this man with all of his heart. And he believed every one of those 'I love you's Steve gave, and those sobs were real and.

He gave his own. He couldn't even hear himself through the ringing in his ears. Harsh and wet and loud, Carlos was crying. Sobbing. His hair was caked with blood, his face his shirt his everything, it was all he could smell and all he could taste and he tried to hold onto that image of his husband he adored. Silly and stupid and an actual fucking genius, his paranoid protector, his loyal servant, the man who could beat the sad out of him and kiss it all better, the love of his life, and if Carlos believed in a thing like soulmates, he'd even go that far.

They were /meant/ to be together, it couldn't be anything else. They loved far too deep and felt far too much and it was like hell itself but the best kind, the very best kind.

If this was what Steve wanted, Carlos could do his part and just. Give it to him. Just give it to him. He felt nothing but pain, there was no pleasure to be found. Not for him. His whole body tense and tight with the pain, and there was more blood. Of course.

He almost wished Steve had killed him, first. [3:38:52 PM] Overdose of Shotgun: He kept Carlos down, kept him pinned, and he fucked him. He fucked him hard with each thrust, sobbing hard, sobbing loud, jerking hips and shaking shoulders and he pounded in as hard as he could. Get it done with quick, one more time to feel him, to be one with him, and he focused on everything but the pain of it all, and soon enough he was filling Carlos.

Spending himself before collapsing against him, petting his hair and then pulling Carlos' pants back up, tucking him in, and turning him over, straddling his waist once more. The blade was picked up, and he took Carlos by one wrist at a time, drawing the blade in long strokes several times.

Slice, cutting, spilling, and then the next arm. "I love you." He whispered, his mind hazy as he coughed, rubbing a hand across his face. "Yer my everythin'... Yer my all." A small sob, and he drew the blade through his own arms, from wrist to elbow, deep. And he was moving away, pulling his husband into his arms, turning him, getting him between his legs, against his chest.

Bloody hands against pet his head. "I love you, I love you, we're goin' t'gether. Us, us, us." He sobbed and kissed at his shoulder. "We'll be t'gether no matter what..." [3:49:49 PM] #SPACETHEATER: This was it, then. He barely felt the pain anymore, barely felt it.

He was in Steve's arms, useless, helpless, and they were going to die. That was it. They were going to die.

Carlos already felt some sort of empty, his lips parted so the ragged remains of what teeth were left didn't cut them worse. So he could breathe because his nose was useless. He was a mess, a disgusting mess, a terrible fucking mess, hell, he didn't even get to die pretty. Not that he really expected to.

No, he expected to die old in some nursing home or some shit with his husband and their kids would visit on the holidays and maybe they'd be grandparents but it wasn't meant to be. Of course not. Not for them, no, they didn't get a happy, normal ending.

They got third page of the newspaper and crime scene photos and an open and shut murder-suicide case.

They got going through hell and back to get out and even then they were unable to escape the devil, the demons, the hellfire.

Carlos's last thoughts before falling asleep was a memory, a long time ago. Not that long, really. But damn, it felt like forever. A pact. If one of us dies, the other dies with him. No living without each other. He remembered how he wanted to die the next day and how Steve beat the shit out of him and how scared he was for that man he loved more than life itself.

And then, again, he thought of ireland. He thought of the helicopter ride and talking dirty on the headsets over that beautiful landscape down below, he remembered actually, finally saying 'I do', and

Carlos Bello died with a smile on his face and tears streaking the blood on his face. He died with a happy memory in his mind and an "I love you, too" on his tongue. He died with a broken heart and a mind at peace. He died in his lover's arms.