Chapter Text
And watch them bask in the glory of their holy disease; Hollywood Undead - Sell your Soul
life was never a true absolute, he knows this when was only a child. to see the cruelty of family, of human beings and how his little sister gives him her full trust.
he can confirm his life wasn't of good choices but he knew he had to make those evils happen, or no one could ever leave the grasp of his father ( and mother ). it was worth the hatred in those emerald eyes of his childhood anchor, worth the pain he went through and worth the blame he took. he believes that making the world a better place would just take the erasure of his cursed existence.
somewhere deep in their shattered psyche, julius kingsley agrees despite the scowl on his face. he too understood the pain of being an accidental fabrication that had its own presence, watching and analyzing.
yet what the true absolute was that he couldn't see a life where his ending wasn't tragic. she always gave him a look of sadness, sympathy and loss with those wise amber eyes and this is why she calls herself his infinite shield . his sword was less agreeable though he remains silent to the end, having shed tears unseen by the demon that the world unrightfully has created. they were the same type of person bent on destroying another like the symbol of ouroborus.
he finds it ironic when his body begins to shut down as the world swims in a symphony of colors and voices. he can't seem to find an ounce of hatred for the broken world when he compares them to his horrible parents, and he wonders if that's what his birth was for.
( if not him, then nunnally? what of dear euphemia? what would this universe end up like if he never existed but his little sister ended up choosing his decisions? )
to him, perhaps she could've done something and possibly wouldn't have to suffer - because of him, because of them - .
death and life were the same as he and the boy with fury in emerald eyes. yet who was the ugly truth and who was the beautiful lie?? it is something that the two couldn't possibly know the answer to and he, being so smart realized he can be so stupid with these trivial issues. was he death, or was the one who ended his life?
their shared moment on the tower is brief and awkward… at least to him. the confession surprises him yet he thinks his own denial of staying was much more. he does not mean to be so honest since lies were absolute survival , but he thinks that's why his old friend seemed rather panicked. there are no words to ease him because there isn't anything he could say.
( even julius agrees that lying would just be a bitter aftertaste, even if he despises him for the mistreatment during that awful time period )
when they say goodbye, when he leaves with her they do have a brief conversation ( he and the witch, that is ).
[ it's bright with the sun sweltering above them, reminding how it can be merciless despite it's needed to survive. the air is humid and the atmosphere was slightly dense.
"are you sure you want to leave them behind? even if you think otherwise… " she grabs his hand tightly, not wanting to lose him since his return. as they walk hand in hand, her fellow immortal stares ahead with shimmering amethyst eyes. she notes he does look livelier than usual despite the shadows lingering underneath his eyes.
he tilts his head to the side as a thought runs in his mind, a small smile forming; genuine and sad. it makes her heart ache that she presses her nearest shoulder against his. she who knew him at times could be at a loss.
"i am a dead man, just as you are a dead woman. what purpose could two ghosts have?" his tone is light, but it leaves an ache in both of their chests. lonely, always listless and unable to find their place in the world to simply exist. god truly is a cruel maker when he can be.
so all she does is hug cheese-kun closer to her chest, grip his hand a bit tighter.
far away a masked crusader stands lonely behind the empress, wheeling her upon her private plane to return to the homeland. ]
yet he also knows, when he wakes up one day with honeysuckle petals on his mouth and on his chest and bed, that life was also true just as her maker. pain aches harshly in his ribcage when he moves, not even noting the shield's gasp when he does faint from cruel vertigo.
briefly he can see those pink peony petals of dearest deceased euphemia join his own, a simple illusion before he slips into darkness.
[ she smiles at him as they stand in the command room, hand offered to him with the true prospect of peace. there is no doubt why he chose her - even if he's jealous and hurting - he can never hate her. she was his polar opposite in their methods; he always loved her and found her amazing.
her pure trust and belief in him was enough to make him cave, hands joining even if hell broke loose and the seeds of hatred fully blossomed with his stupid mistake. the phone call and the deep hatred resonate in his heart, recalling just as much he held such emotion. a lonely existence but what is he if just not that? no one in the world deserved to trust him, he didn't deserve their good will and he was just as dead as she was on the pile of bloody corpses he created. ]
( the world (
life
) is never absolute,
couldn't ever be because it truly doesn't
let the dead rest in peace. )
being denied such a luxury would've been too easy and gratuitous for someone like him. the world deemed him unfit for such a still, peaceful silence and demanded him to finish what he's started.
even if it meant living with a garden overtaking a fragile cage around his beating heart.