blatant self indulgence - mourning what is not lost
hi it's be sad about daniel hours. you're welcome.
Sometimes there is a mourning for things not had.
The back side of an I love you that begs to grow old together.
They wonât. Him and Jesse.
Thatâs okay.
Sometimes Daniel thinks without Jesse he wouldnât be here. Itâs true. However much he denies it every time the other two try to press that he does not take well enough care of himself, that he does not value his own life for anything, that he is too quick to offer up a sacrifice unasked for. Maybe he would still be in that little apartment, too bright, but close to the water. Maybe Amalthea would have found him sooner.
He knows what would have happened in one case.
If heâd gone through with it.
Made good on his promise and killed Jesse like heâd asked.
But the truth is that was never going to happen, not even from the start.
So he hadnât been in love then. It was still impossible to shake Jesse off, to deny him anything but that. The closest thing to standing in sunlight that Daniel could get. The closest thing to being selfish he would allow at the time.
That either of them would.
They are both vastly different people than they were in 1989.
And Daniel cannot wish for a world where they would have been normal. Happy. Short lived.
Because Jesse would have died young.
And a part of Daniel would have died with him.
But sometimes, possibly when heâs in a mood to regret, he wonders what it would have been like to grow old together. Whenever Sarah is around, and he sees lines on her face that would paint Jesseâs the same. When Jesse throws out that he isâtechnicallyânearing sixty. When Daniel remembers heâll be eighty in a years time.
Most of the time though, he is beyond content with the fact that he will have Jesse for as long as either of them wants. As long as they both feel like continuing to exist. There will be arms to fall asleep in. There will be hands that touch him more gently than he deserves. There will be a smile so bright it puts the stars to shame.
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today in lines i forced out through my teeth because the writing is not going
âI never got to thank you.â Katie says softly, still off-color, still wide eyed.
âDonât.â Alex shakes their head, letting their hands drop over their chest. âDonât, I donât deserve thatââ
ââbullshit.â Katie cuts them off, letting go of Carrieâs hand and marching her way over the bar where Alex is sitting. âEveryone else in that fucking room died, I didnât, I didnât because of you.â
Poetry đïž and sci fi đ§Ș for the book genre ask game :)
Sci-fi đ§Ș: What future do you want for you and your wip/s?
Honestly? I just want them to be had. I want people to get out of them the experiences that I do. I want my characters to be beloved, to be despised, I want them to be known. I don't care if they go far, or do well, I just want other people to be able to see them, entirely, for the work I put in.
Poetry đïž: give us a taste of your writing with a literary technique (rhyme, descriptive language, alliteration etc).
(I like the way this section of scene flows, have this)
âCan I⊠go back to bed now?â They mumble once Jesse is gone. Itâs the last thing their body wants, itâs buzzing and alive like theyâve got too much energy. They stretch to try and curb it, to try and urge their limbs to remember that they are exhausted. It doesnât do much.
âNot yet, sorry.â Daniel does sound truly apologetic. Alex recognizes the look heâs giving them and tries to coax the sudden distress out of their expression, to no success.
âNow?â
âNow,â Daniel echoes, âI know itâs been a long night, but tell me where youâre at.â
It doesnât take long to figure out.
They think about how little Isaacâs blood had helped last night, about how their memory was fading in and out when the hunger was at its worst. How they hadnât really been conscious until Daniel had pulled them off Isaac, how that had been like waking up from a nightmareâ
âItâs not great.â
âAn understatement. What about right now?â
So much energy they feel like bursting, heart racing but vision clear and sharp. Still red at the edges but less like haze and more like tinted glass. The empty thermos just making their body chime more, more, more. âSick.â Alex replies, âLike Iâve got too much energy and nowhere to send it, like the pain is behind a wall but itâs still there, like the wall is made of wet paper and itâs justââ Their voice dies and Daniel takes their hand again.
âYou know youâre running low on time.â
âI know,â Alex whispers, âI know, I know, justâ just a couple days, okay?â
âI can do that,â Daniel assures them, âbut tell me if it gets worse.â
âFine!â Isaac snaps, stopping abruptly. Theyâve hit the edge of the water. âWhy did you save my life? Why did you stop Alex from killing me? Why did you give me your blood? Why are you so fucking human?â He has to pause, has to remember to breathe, has toâshit, he hadnât meant to do it like this. âI shouldnât be talking to you, I shouldnât be talking to Alex, I should have just left you that last bit of blood and forgotten about all of this, I should have said no when you asked for my helpââ
It takes a minute for Jesseâs eyes to adjust, until he can see Daniel sprawled out across the whole of the bed. He looks softer in sleep, hair over his eyes and one arm hanging off the edge towards the floor.
Murderer, Jesse reminds himself, straight up killed a man last night, with his teeth.
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Weeks of having Alex over for training had gradually eased his anxieties about something going wrong. They got on well with Carrie and Tom, and while both his friends still peppered him with questions, the actual interrogating had died down after the first few days.
Fighting Alex was still different, maybe just because of the secret they were both keeping, maybe because both of them knew how easy it would be to blow the whole charade. One step a little too far, like when the others had gone and they stopped holding back. It would just take one slip into that mindset. Just one touch too far into Alexâs skin, eyes flashing red, teeth suddenly too sharp and too long.
Then...
Then there was the other problem.
When this started, it was about giving Alex time to make their decision, it was about keeping them alive. Nobody said he had to be their friend, or even tolerate being around them, but he didnât mind. He was a second opinion, not an unbiased one, but Alex didnât have much in the way of other options. So he poured out everything he knew, gave his blood as often as he could, and after a while Alex just felt like part of life.
Tom and Carrie were his friends.
Alex was that one friend who had maybe almost killed him a few times...
Now that the groups had melted together, the reality was getting harder and harder to ignore.
Alex was his friend.
And he wanted there to be more than that.
And wanting that was going to be the death of him.
So, he ignored it.
Ignored it, and ignored it, and-
âWould you just kiss them already?â Tomâs voice pulls Isaac out of his thoughts and back to his bedroom. Theyâd been curled up having a movie night while Carrie was doing double shifts andâfor onceâ while Isaacâs uncle had taken over the shop for the evening.
âWhat?â
âAlex, would you please stop pining and go out?â Tom insisted âJust, maybe donât punch them in the face, I know I didnât appreciate it.â
Isaac smiles at the memory, even if itâs a little sour. High school had been, at least up until this past few months, the height of his anxiety. Finding out he was bi hadnât helped. It didnât matter that heâd wanted Tom to kiss him, heâd beenâfor lack of a better wordâscared. âI shouldnât.â
âWhy the hell not?â Tom asked âYou didnât deny it, so you obviously like them, youâre both adults so what could possibly be stopping you.â He paused for a second and added âUnless itâs me, stopping you, I promise thereâs no hurt feelings or anything, I wonât be mad if you-â
âTom,â Isaac cut over him, resting his head on Tomâs shoulder. âI know you wouldnât. Itâs just... complicated. Alex has had a really rough year, I donât think theyâve really settled yet, and I donât want to make things any harder.â
âOh, yeah, because dating you is so difficult.â Tom rolled his eyes, and Isaac almost laughed. Theyâd been together up until senior year, when Tom had left for culinary school and they decided friendship was better for both of them. Not that it had changed much, when they saw each other there was still a lot of hugging and holding and I missed you so much.
âCarrie agrees with me,â Tom said âyouâre lucky itâs me saying all this and not her-â
Isaac groaned, batting Tom on the head â-Stop it!â Thereâs a smile on his face despite being serious. âYou tell Carrie to lay off it too.â
âTell her yourself,â Tom shot back ânot my job to call her off.â
Ooops Itâs been too long since I put Jesse in an uncomfortable situation, letâs go!
This time featuring my hatred of having to be the bigger person when youâre the child, but suffering through it anyways bc youâre the âgood kidâ.
âSarah? Whatâs wrong?â Sheâs been silent on the other end of the line since he picked up, just an occasional shaking breath. Jesse was going to just wait until she seemed able to speak but itâs starting to worry him.
âI- look I know you hated dad and you had good reason to- and itâs all complicated and-â
â-Heâs dead, isnât he.â
Itâs not a question.
It doesnât have to be.
Her voice breaks in her response âYeah, yeah um, he had a fall and- can you- would you-â
âWhenâs the funeral, Sarah?â Heâs struggling to keep his voice low and calm, he can process once heâs off the phone, once it wonât affect her.
âSaturday.â
âIâll be there Friday night.â He assures her âLove you.â
âLove you too.â
He drops the phone as soon as heâs hung up.
He shouldnât, he hears the back pop off and the battery go flying when it hits the ground. Probably to vanish somewhere under the bed, under his dresser, it doesnât really matter. Jesse sits back on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, not sure what heâs supposed to be feeling. What do you feel for the death of someone youâre supposed to love but you donât? For someone who treated you like the scum of the earth until you were finally enough of a problem to get thrown out?
Bill Addison is dead.
Heâs not sure if thereâs any real feeling behind it.
Bitterness for not having ever really confronted him?
Relief that he never had to?
âJesse?â
âDadâs dead,â Jesse mumbled âfuneral Saturday, donât wanna talk about it.â After a moment he opens his arms and adds âCan you just come here?â
Daniel obliges him without another word. Itâs been a very long time since theyâve spent a whole night in bed together, but Jesse canât bring himself to move. He stays wrapped around Daniel, waiting for something to change, waiting for some revelation he canât see coming. Something to tell him what heâs meant to do now.
When restlessness takes over for lethargy he says something about needing Moiraâs help and finally gets up.
This was true.
He needed to her dye his hair back to blond.
It felt like something he could manage. Just not something he could manage alone.
âYou still awake?â
âMmmm,â Moira doesnât look around the canvas obscuring her from view, her back to the window that will spill sunrise soon. âwhat do you need?â
âI need your help dying my hair blond.â Even the word itself makes his mouth want to curl. He remembers dying it the first time, honey and sunshine going black-
âYou hate when your hair is blond.â She doesnât miss a beat, she does actually look around now, brush in hand, paint coating her arms. âIs something wrong?â
âFuneral.â
Her eyes go wide and Jesse stops her before her thoughts go anywhere tragic:
âMy father. I told Sarah Iâd go.â
âOh-â
He doesnât mean to cut her off again, but he canât talk about it. Doesnât want to. Doesnât feel like he can. âPlease, Moira- I just want to get this over with.â
âYeah, yeah okay.â
Thereâs usually something therapeutic about dying his hair, something about having control over even a small aspect of himself that brings him some calm. Usually. Seeing himself blond again has much the opposite effect. It leaves him feeling vulnerable and small in ways he hasnât felt in decades. It also calls up the fact that heâs supposed to be... God, fifty-two? Sarah looks older than he does now.
Itâs the least he can do, he reminds himself.
Itâs something.
~*~
âLet me know if you change your mind.â Daniel tells him âIâll come if you need me.â
He doesnât want to let go, doesnât want to leave the safety of the home heâs made for himself. He doesnât want to set foot back in that monster of a house and pretend heâs fine being there. But he smiles, though he can tell it will look forced, and replies: âI will. Itâll be alright. Iâm just there for Sarah anyway.â
âI love you.â
âLove you too.â He presses a last kiss to Danielâs forehead and closes his eyes.
His fatherâs study is the one room he can think of that is unlikely to have changed since his last time there. Smelling faintly of tobacco and cinnamon, all dark wood and smooth glass-
He opens his eyes to find he was right, it looks nearly identical. Books have probably changed, a lamp has been replaced, but the main things are the same. Thereâs a new picture of Sarah and her kids on the desk from last Christmas, and next to it-
Next to it is his graduation picture from Berkeley.
Itâs such a shock to see that heâs taken by the immediate need to check if itâs real.
Heâs reached out to touch it when someone screams.
Turning to see his mother, âWho are-â she stops as sheâs able to look at him properly. It occurs to him then that she hasnât actually seen him blond since he was first kicked out, when he was fifteen.
âHello, mother.â Itâs a little stiff, Jesse canât help it though, all his energy is going to keeping a handle on his emotions right now. Everything is just trying not to let this house affect him the way he knows itâs going to if heâs here for very long.
There isnât a whole lot of time to try and find more to say, regardless of if he wants to or not, because almost as soon as he speaks, sheâs crying.
Jesse doesnât want to comfort her.
He doesnât want to have to.
He takes a breath and pulls her into a hug. While it just seems to make her cry harder at first, whole body shaking with the effort of it, she does hug him back. This isnât what heâs here for, this is in fact exactly what heâs not here for. He doesnât want to make things better. Itâs not his responsibility.
As wrapped up in his own thoughts and not wanting to be here as he is, it takes some time to notice the steady stream of apologies making their way out between tears. Pulling back, he looks at his motherâs shaking form and- despite how fragile she looks- has to overcome the urge to shove her away. âMother, stop.â
âI- but I-â
âI mean it, stop.â Heâs never tried to do that before, it feels like all the air gets pulled out of him with the words, but she does stop talking long enough to collect herself and still the shaking. âIâm fine.â
âYouâre doing okay?â She asks finally, a little of her normal voice returning.
âIâm alive, arenât I?â It feels somewhat backhanded, considering the last time they saw each other, but Jesse canât really bring himself to care.
The silence is too heavy here.
He hates it.
Everything feels so much the same.
Miranda looks ready to cry again, but instead she just shakes her head a little and motions for Jesse to follow her out of the office. He notices his pictures have returned to the walls. It still doesnât matter. It wouldnât have mattered before. Itâs been too long for a gesture like that to be worth much. His room still looks much the same as last time, plain and empty and-
He canât help but think of the last night heâd spent here. When he still thought he was going to die. When everything still felt like it was falling apart.
His mother seems to gather herself before speaking again, and it comes out like the words feel strange on her tongue. âWill Daniel be joining you, tomorrow?â
The question takes Jesse so off guard he doesnât respond at first. Heâs not sure if that feeling bubbling up is going to end in laughing in her face or starting to cry. âWould you care?â Itâs harsher than it needs to be, colder, but he tells himself itâs deserved. Like everything else it doesnât matter. He canât let it matter if he wants to keep going.
All the air seemed to leave the room as Amalthea appeared, less put together now, with the holes in her dress and her flesh, eyes still bright but lacking the control of before, wide and wild and full of rage.
âAs touching as this little display is, my patience is out.â Time may very well have stopped, everything faded out around Daniel until it was only the two of them. Â The calm in her voice so obviously faked, he could feel the anger beneath it practically shaking his bones. âDo not make me set another example, little soldier.â
Carterâs head in her grasp like a mirror of the Medusa myth, Elice and her own in pieces, Eric coated head to toe in the blood of children. Â He knew that voice. Â It was so easy to see what would follow if he refused her now.
âYou know better.â
She would take him either way.
Willing, or with his family dead by her hands.
Even that was just a lie to keep him sane, she knew him, if they ended up dead it would be his own skin dyed red. That was crystal clear.
Daniel released Jesseâs hand and pushed himself back to his feet. Â
He nodded once.
Amalthea was right.
He knew better.
Knew better than to tempt the note in her voice that promised destruction. Â Not here, not again.
âA minute?â The request was all he could hope for, even then it was barely a shred of possibility.
The silence was a deafening refusal. Â Unsurprising, and yet-
âTake care of each other.â
He couldnât bring himself to look back. Â If he saw them he would fight it, if he fought, he would damn them all. Â But he hears movement, a chorus of whispers as Eden, Gus and the humans do their best to keep the other three from interfering.
Looking back would make him fight.
Looking back would damn them all.
"Donât-â
Jesseâs voice halts before the words are out. The desperation is there, the silent plea of not again.
Daniel took a breath, digging for that place where his emotions are gone, grief, love, anger, joy. Â Weakness. Â Control, he was in control, obedience and fear were the ruling factors now.
No explanation to his family would make it easier
There was red in his vision that wasnât yet real, but that would change.
It would keep them safe, this would keep all of them safe.
That was worth it.
Amalthea was the only thing in view, pure white in the shape of someone he once loved.