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Annus paces like a wild animal held in a cage far too small for it, dark eyes flashing.
"Annus," Unus whispers.
The hand he offers is ignored. Annus cannot bear the softness that his lover reaches out with; he rages against the inevitable fate that looms on the horizon, teeth bared and muscles tense. But even further, he cannot trust himself to be gentle at the moment. That same rage that seeks to free them both is incompatible with the sweet nights they steal together. Unus deserves tender kisses and the reverent gaze that comes so easily when their love seems to hold the world at bay for a day, an hour, a minute. He deserves more than Annus fears himself capable of at times, but when he is caught in that hypnotizing hazel gaze Annus cannot deny him anything, and more than anything Unus wants him.
Still. Still. Pain curls deep inside his chest, tearing a hole there that can't be filled.
"Can't," he manages jerkily. "Can't. Hate this."
The ticking never stops, not here. Shadow and light swirl together all around them. Their coffins — one black, one white — lay beside each other. And yet in the background there is no break in the interminable flow of sand from the top of the cosmic hourglass to the bottom. Their time runs out.
That is all.
Unus makes a pained sound as he steps closer, dark suit and pressed dress pants pristine as ever. "Annus, come here."
It's cold. So, so cold. His muscles do not function the same as a human's, but they ache as the temperature lowers all the same. Black and white chase each other around him even faster: the pocket universe he and Unus are confined to is unsettled by his emotions. Annus doesn't care, though, and curses it thoroughly, sprinting after the source of the ticking. He wants it to go away, wants it to stop! He can't be torn away from his love again. He can't bear to lose the one person who has been by his side since he was created, not to a callous and uncaring 'deal' forced upon them both on the whim of creators who don't even realize the power their words and designs have.
"Let us go!"
A crackling glass barrier glints before him through the fog. Is that it? Is that the wall of their prison?
"Annus, no. Annus!"
Footsteps in the black. In the white, too, and in all the grey shades in between. Unus is worried. Unus is frightened because of him. But he will die if Annus does nothing, if they don't break free before the clock stops forever. He has to do something. He has to give Unus a chance at life beyond this place where there is no more and no less to look forward to than their times together, than what little glimpses of beyond their creators allow them.
His own death — if that is what is at stake — feels so minor compared to that.
Agony screams through his veins as he slams against the glass, but he refuses to stop. There has to be a way to break it. Glass cannot resist his fists, his feet, his body battering it for long, and indeed when he blinks to clear his eyes there appear to be cracks in the material. Broken shards dig into his flesh; a vibrant red flashes among the black and white and grey, oddly beautiful as if it reflects his righteous fury at the circumstances thrust upon him. He doesn't stop, even as he feels his finer bones crack and splinter under the assault. The agony blots out his vision, makes his mind retreat until a single goal is all that drives him; survival. There is a chain around their necks, a noose, and the chair is about to be kicked from beneath their legs.
Shock races down Annus' spine as his fist finally goes through where the glass used to be. He stumbles forward, one step and then another, to find that the fog still clings to his wounds and exposed flesh.
"Annus!"
The cry is... muffled? He shakes with the pain and physical exhaustion, unable to comprehend what has happened.
"Unus?" A whisper, no more. Clearing his throat, he looks around and draws what strength he can back to his trembling shoulders. Something is wrong. Something is not as it should be. "Unus? We- we made it."
But it is choked sobs that meet his ears instead of a victorious cry. The glass has reformed, and this time it is rapidly becoming laced with what Annus recognizes as metal. Metal that will be even harder to get through than the glass that Annus is still not recovered from breaking. Unus places his hands against the barrier, lips parted in horror and grief as he tries in vain to reach out one last time.
There is no way for Annus to reach out and touch him in turn. They are sundered.
"No."
It can't be. This can't all be for naught.
"NO!"
Unus drops slowly to his knees, head bowed. There is nothing else to say.
It seems to Annus that the universe is laughing.
THE END.