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FT. @eightholyterrors
BASED ON PLOT
Blood... mere of crimson engulfed him was duty that bound him to her. An avowal to care for his best mate’s wife for the rest of his days. It was him who had made Elias find a way back into himself after Sawyer’s mother walked out of their lives when little one was barely two months old. Him who made him laugh again, made him enjoy his days at the department while solving cases together. It was him that brought her into his life. Best of friends, the two of them, and somehow, they have become each other’s family. Terror comes to him at nights, in the dark, cold of the ground, nothingness that clung to him while both tried to keep each other awake... to attach themselves to whatever remnant of life they could hold onto whilst sirens are heard at distance. Small holes, thick, clammy cerise oozing out of both. A raid gone horribly wrong. Bullets that had come carved with their names... but it was him who had shielded expanse of his form as they tried to find a way out of that forsaken warehouse. He wakes. Coldness of ambiance doing naught to refrain his figure from perspire, obscure of the room urges sight to adjust, it is then that he notices her by his side, awake, indistinguishable just yet, but there. She knows, detective finds comfort by it, they are not alone. But mostly, ruefulness.
“I am sorry”. It has been months ago, six long months that felt fleeting by since that night, grieving, weathering with therapy, the recovery futile, he will not ever be again the man of lighthearted remarks and righteousness. Holder ires for his lost friend, yearns revenge. Penance by taking life of those who took away his best mate’s. But mostly, he wants to disremember how culpability is his, for more than his death, but for taking promise he made that night to heart... care for her, safeguard and comfort, but he never thought feelings that had lingered long before his companion’s passing would brought forth, requesting her to move into his home as an excuse to be near her. Somehow, playing house has become the one thing holding pieces of them together. Yet, she comes to him, at night, in the dark. Cautious not to thread closely to the brink... they might as well admit, they are overstepped far too long ago. “It was just—just a bad night... you should—go back to sleep”.
