Work Text:
Owen’s biggest regret was never telling Curt he forgave him.
Then again, he hadn’t realized he’d forgiven the man until it was too late.
He’d spent almost four years in a blind rage, planning the perfect revenge and killing everyone he could, when he got a handwritten note from one of the heads of Chimera.
ACM dead. Alcohol poisoning.
Something in Owen had broken.
Dead? That wasn’t possible; Curt couldn’t die. Curt was all false bravado and bright smiles and kisses on the corners of Owen’s lips. He burned bright like the sun, he couldn’t. . . He couldn’t just die.
Especially not from something like alcohol poisoning. That was so. . . Civilian. So unfitting of Curt.
It didn’t take much work for Owen to sneak to his funeral. A new synthetic mask, and he slipped into the crowd like nothing. Or, ‘crowd’. It was sparsely populated, just a stony faced Cynthia and a sobbing Barb holding Curt’s mother, who was crying even harder than the scientist, if it was even possible.
Owen waited until they were gone before he approached his former lover’s headstone. He crouched in front of it, fingers tracing the words carved into it.
CURTIS LAWRENCE MEGA
1920-1960
BELOVED SON AND FRIEND
GONE TOO SOON
Owen almost got angry. How dare they boil Curt- sweet, beautiful, wonderful Curt- down to a few simple words?
Owen dropped his head and spoke to the ground, as if to address the deceased man.
“Curt,” Owen spoke slowly, “I’m so, so, sorry.”
The wind brushed against him, and Owen swore he almost heard Curt’s voice whisper in his mind, I forgive you.