Chapter Text
There aren’t words to properly describe what’s happened to them. There isn’t the right collection of adjectives, no clever poem that will really say how it feels- not even Pete would try. They were dragged back to life after being fucking slaughtered. They were brought back with a job. Andy doesn’t remember what, exactly, when it comes right down to it: to save the world, preserve the integrity of music, or was there something more metaphorical ‘God’ had in mind. Who fucking knows. Whatever it was, they fucking did it, and now here they are. Alive and kicking, but they'll never be the same.
All wounds were healed, from the little cuts, to Joe’s leg, to the fatal slice across Andy’s neck. Patrick didn’t have a scratch on him, and he was easily the most fucked up- he had his hand and all of his internal organs. (Fuck, see- this shit is too crazy to really describe, even in a clinical way.) They had all been pieced back together, but they could never be whole. Life doesn't work like that. You don't get to go through this, and come out fresh and clean. They've been beaten, attacked, stabbed, and mutilated. Divine touch can clear your skin, but it's not enough. They were scarred inside, and it leaves a ghost pain. Nothing could erase what they knew, what they saw.
Andy is broken. For the man who has always been considered the rock in the group, it didn't take much to break him. Just one thing, just one loss: Joe. He could deal with the beatings, but Joe... that was the end for Andy. The way he aches is so deep it might as well be physical- it makes him want to keel over, to throw up in grief and pain. He’s in mourning. In the past the couple of days he has lost absolutely everything- he lost Joe. He died with his heart ripped out of his chest. Even though he’s back it still feels like it’s missing. When he looks at Joe, now, he feels like his insides are on fire. Joe fucking died. Is he supposed to just fucking get over that? Not going to fucking happen. He closes his eyes, and he sees Joe’s big, blue eyes open and lifeless. He doesn’t think he's ever going to get over it.
x
Andy isn’t sure how they get home. Somebody had a change of clothing and a car. Andy doesn’t care- all he knows is that he’s at his fucking house, which is somewhere he didn't think he would ever get to go back to. Andy practically runs inside, Joe following hot on his heels. Andy wants to get behind closed doors- he wants to lock it behind them and not leave for a very long time. He doesn’t trust anything anymore, and he wants to be somewhere familiar, where he won’t have to go far to find Joe. He wants to be somewhere he can just sit and stare at his boyfriend. (When they were in the car, Andy just sat there and watched Joe, blinking and breathing, and was thoroughly amazed by even these simple things.)
They get through the front door and the couple turn toward each other immediately. Joe’s arms go tight around Andy, lifting him off the ground with the force of his hug. It’s the first time they’ve touched since they got back. There just hasn’t been time, what with the fucking blood showers and people dying right and left. But, now, Joe is finally back in his arms- and the moment he does Andy feels like he can finally breathe. Joe doesn't disappear like smoke under his touch, the screen doesn't fade to black, he doesn't wake up somewhere and find out that Joe is still dead. No, Joe's right here. Andy presses his face into Joe’s neck, which smells like sweat, and he can feel Joe’s every breath. He’s alive- actually alive.
“God, you’re real.” Andy knows how broken that sounds.
“Yeah,” Joe whispers, kissing the top of Andy’s head. “I’m real. We both are, and we’re home.”
Somehow, Andy gets Joe pressed up against the front door. He is leaning all of his weight against his partner, letting Joe keep him up. Andy slides a hand into Joe’s hair, his fingers tangling into the curls. They’re not so much kissing as breathing against each other's mouth in a messy, desperate kind of way. Andy can feel the worry coming off of Joe in waves. He knows he’s crying, he knows that he has to look like a total mess. (He is a total mess.) He can’t be strong right now, he literally couldn’t if he tried. Joe just holds him and supports him, letting him fall apart.