Work Text:
The fingers are stiffening, losing heat. And life.
A man sits beside the frail body, his own fingers, supple warm alive, are pressed into his eyes, attempting to stem the flow of tears: twigs against Niagara.
He whimpers.
The frail mouth, with teeth still so utterly imperfect, says something. Tries to, at least.
He lifts his aching head, filled with stories and uncountable experiences. With lovers and deaths and planets lit by no sun. Planets he has not seen. Not actually. Not for himself. Never for himself.
He knows exactly what he is about to be told.
The imperfect mouth attempts his name, softly, pleadingly, gasping for a last few moments. He tries to compose himself, but the instruments of his orchestra are tuneless. Rusted and set. The sheet music: a continuous whole note. A monotony that robs him of each chance. Of any form of redemption.
He tries anyway.
“Y-yes, Carlos…” He coughs invisible blood to clear his throat. He can see it, staining his hands, an Eternity’s worth of lives drained into his confidence. Into his greed. He can see it shining Dark and cold on his aged hands.
So very, very Dark.
Cee… ce…
The man sits, stricken with grief and remorse, regret and apology.
“Just this once.” He begs. “Please, just once, let me say goodbye.”
He talks to a self that doesn’t Listen. To a self that is not a Listener, that is only a Voice. And Voices do not Listen.
The cooling fingers grasp weakly again at his own, the sunken eyes flutter open and close, open and close.
He weeps.
“Please.”
The faded lips gesture numbly, mouthing his name, the vocal chords apparently having reserved themselves to silence. Soon, all will be silent.
Soon.
He brings himself closer, wanting nothing more than to pull away, to stop himself. To impede the words from entering his mind, from rendering him insatiable and blind to the death he is causing. But he needs to be close. To feel the fading warmth and the eternal love. To touch until the touch is no longer felt by one of them. Felt forever by the other.
Cee… cil.
Eyes closed mouth open body wasting. A last image of his dying lover.
“I’m here, Carlos, my imperfect love. I’m here.”
Always here.
Forever.
Interminable.
Ceaseless.
“Where is my dark planet?”
Cecil…
A ragged inhale.
I-I can see…
A tortured exhale.
He waits. Eyes squeezing diamonds, crystalline and compact, down his reddened cheeks. It has come for him once more, but never actually for him, and he must stop himself from mouthing the words as they are said.
He has heard them so many times before.
… a dark planet. L-lit by no… no sun.
His heart flutters and his muscles tense, eyes filling with images of a monstrous Darkness. Eyes filling with Darkness. Eyes filling with tears that are not tears.
Darkness.
He forces himself back to his cruel Eternity, back to his lover whose eyes are now wide open, staring at a Nothing he knows all too well is not, in fact, Nothing. It is just out of reach. Groaning. Spinning. They could both reach up and touch It, but only one of them actually will.
A frail arm lifts. A frail hand stretches.
I can almost touch it. I can… almost…
He wails aloud and throws himself over the the frail body, whipping his head to clear the Darkness. His body aches for It. For the Darkness. For the roiling, black oceans and the jagged peaks. For the sunless planet that is the sweetness of release. Already, part of him has succumbed, nursing the hunger that growls in his soul. Teasing it. Already, part of him is pulling back, allowing the frail hand to lift once more. To reach and bring back the agonizing images. To bring him the Darkness.
The weaker part: “Please, just this once… Just this one time… Just let me say goodbye.”
The stronger part: “Yes. Reach for It. Reach for me. Let me see the planet. Let me see the sunless Dark. Let me. Let me.”
The frail body does as it is told. Such a good Listener. Such a soothing Voice.
He watches, leering, willing the hand to its place upon the dark planet. He watches, and then sees no more as the Darkness takes him. Like a thick velvet. Like delicious poison. Like a bottomless ocean, black and turbulent and endless. Like a dark planet, lit by no sun. Like a dark planet he will never see. Not for himself. Never for himself.
“For Carlos.”
The Darkness suddenly fades. Sparkles and fuzzes on the edge of his vision. The ocean is gone. The mountains are gone. The dark planet, lit by no sun… It is gone.
And Carlos is gone, too. Without a goodbye. Without last words of love. Without anything except his own greed to see and feel the dark planet. The one that is lit by no sun.
This is his curse. This is his all. To love until death. To watch them meet their planet. The Dark one. Lit. By no sun. To feel their planet. To see their planet. And never to say goodbye. To only watch and use. A vicarious death of his own, because he will never have it himself.
***
The color of immortality: Dark.
Like a planet lit by no sun.