Archive of Our Own

There was blood everywhere. He was sure that at least some of it was his own, but he couldn’t care less. He only cared about the other person lying motionless on the ground. Noir dragged himself along, strength slowly returning to him. It wasn’t fair.
“Please…” He whispered, reaching out for Styx. His blood-stained hands fumbled around blood-stained everything else. He gently brushed aside the punk’s hair, but his eyes were closed.
“Please…” He whispered again, desperately. His fingers struggled with blood-soaked clothing. Noir’s whole body was trembling. He was hyperventilating. His heart was about to break out of his chest. More pleads and cries were stuck in his throat, making it hard to breathe.
Was Styx still breathing? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t find his pulse either. “Please, please, please…”
The detective pulled the other man into his arms, cradling him, pressing him against his chest. A sob escaping his mouth shook his whole body. “Styx…” Noir didn’t even notice the tears running down his cheeks.
“Please don’t let him die…” He pressed his face into the young man’s shoulder.
“Blood for blood, isn’t that it? A life for a life. Can’t you just…” He groaned, frustrated. “Fuck, I don’t even know if you can hear me, bloody demon. But… if you can… can’t you just… let him live…”
Noir started sobbing again and gasping for air, it took a moment until he composed himself enough to continue to speak. “Take the rest of my life and give it to him, please!” He felt so stupid, pleading to the demon that he was sacrificed to eighty years ago.
“Please… I fucking beg you…” He stroked Styx’ face, trying to ignore the fact that the skin felt slightly cold under his touch. “I don’t want it! Not… not without him…” Carefully, he let Styx sink back onto the ground, his hand wrapping around a glass shard, which painfully cut into his palm.
He cut and cut, he bled and bled, felt dizzy for a moment and was fine again the next. He just… couldn’t die. Still couldn’t. Noir had stopped sobbing now. He was hoarse and tired. On his knees in front of Styx, he reached out to him once more. Bowed over him, kissed his lips for what felt like one last time.
In the distance, sirens were closing in. But Noir didn’t care anymore. He got up on his feet and stumbled away.

He was blinded by bright lights as he slowly woke up; it felt like he had to claw himself out of a prison of cotton. He tried to speak but only inaudible mumbles left his lips. His throat was dry, and his body ached.
“WhereamI?”
Styx fumbled around but was held down by someone. He tried to blink and squint until he could finally see clearer, but it was still so bright. Someone was talking to him, but he could barely hear what they were saying.
He closed his eyes and felt himself drift off again.

“… is stable. Nothing to worry about anymore. He was surprisingly lucky, though. Getting shot in the chest twice is not a joke.”
Styx groaned as he awoke again. The bright light was finally gone, his surroundings were now dimly lit and he was even able to recognize it as a hospital room. He was in a hospital. And next to his bed, the police captain was conversing with what Styx assumed was a doctor.
As the two men noticed his awakening, they both turned towards Styx. Especially Gordon, the police captain, seemed more than relieved. “Bloody hell, sunshine!” He exclaimed, wiping his forehead. “You gave us one hell of a scare.” He sighed and then smiled.
“I…” The punk tried to slowly sit up, the doctor assisting him by pushing a pillow into his back. “What happened?” He scarcely remembered an accident. It was mostly a blur, but someone tailgated them. And fired shots at them. Them… who was them? Him and… who?
Before he could think about it any further, Gordon spoke to him: “We aren’t sure yet, but you two must have got caught up with a criminal who didn’t want to get caught. He caused a car accident and then kept firing shots at you. You were hit twice.” The police captain took a deep breath, probably thinking about the blood bath that had greeted them at the crime scene.
“I…” Styx muttered again, memories now slowly flooding his brain. You two. Them. Him… and Noir. Noir! He looked around the room, but all of the other beds were empty. He took a moment to remind himself that Noir was immortal, meaning that he was probably alright. Right?
“It’s alright, boy.” Gordon interrupted his thought process again. “You rest now. You got pretty lucky, the doc said. Must have had a guardian angel or two out there. Most others wouldn’t have survived what you did.”
Guardian angel… more memories came rushing down at Styx and they were the kind that made his stomach churn. They were cast in darkness, but he distinctly remembered his nose being filled with the smell of blood. And the feeling of Noir’s touch. And, above all, Noir’s voice. The pain, even thinking about it, made his own chest hurt.
Then he started to remember fractions of words. Noir pleading for him. Guardian angel… what if…? No… no! It couldn’t have worked, right? But what if?
“Where is Noir?” Styx blurted out, looking at the police captain in a panic.
“That…” Gordon sighed, frowning. “We don’t know, Styx. We couldn’t find him anywhere. We’re still searching. There was… a lot of blood. But Noir should be fine. You know he’s a tough guy. More than that.” He side-glanced at the doctor, not wanting to disclose anything about his favorite detective to strangers.
“He…” Styx wanted nothing more than to jump to his feet and rush out to find Noir. He would have done it, if he hadn’t been so bloody exhausted. He could barely move any of his limbs, if he tried to get off the bed, he probably would manage a few steps before collapsing.
“He is probably already on his way to you.” The captain smirked, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Styx. “Where else would he be?”
“He said things, Gordon… when he thought I was…”
Gordon nodded quietly and placed a hand on Styx’ arm. When the young man pulled away, he frowned and took a deep breath. “Styx… you are hurt. It’s a miracle you’re even alive. Don’t do any-“
“That’s it exactly!” The punk interrupted him, yelling loud enough to even catch the doctor’s attention. “I…” He sank back into his pillow and closed his eyes. There was no use in trying to explain himself to the police captain. Gordon was a great guy, but he wouldn’t understand.
The captain was conversing with the doctor again, but Styx didn’t even try to listen in. He buried his face in the starchy hospital-pillow and tried to tune out all sounds around him. He was so exhausted, he just wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t get his mind to stop thinking about Noir.
Eventually, he drifted off, sinking into nightmares. He dreamt about himself being shot and dying in Noir’s arms. Suddenly, however, it was Noir who was dying in his arms. For him. To save his life. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Styx woke up sobbing, cheeks and pillow wet. It was dark and he was all alone, except for the constant humming of some machines. The last time he had felt a similar loneliness, was the day his brother had… Styx coughed, a sob stuck in his throat. The rest of the night he just stared at the ceiling, unable to find any more sleep, afraid of more nightmares.
At some point, the night turned into morning and the morning into noon into afternoon… and so on. Styx was visited by doctors and nurses, all astonished about his quick recovery, and by colleagues, most of whom seemed actually glad to see him alive. Someone brought a toy shark. Gordon came with his favorite donuts.
Styx, however, didn’t care. Noir didn’t come. He didn’t show up the next day either. Or the day after that. A week went by, and no one could tell him anything. They still didn’t know where he was, Gordon had said. His apartment had been vacant and there was no way of reaching him. Styx was sad, then scared, then angry.
Why would Noir abandon him like that?
After eight days, they let him go. The doctor kept telling him how wondrous his recovery had been, but Styx couldn’t care less. He was standing outside the hospital gates next to Gordon, feeling absolutely defeated.
“Can I take you somewhere?” The police captain asked and Styx’ eyes started tearing up. Where was he supposed to go? He just wanted to see Noir. Sighing, he shook his head. Gordon drove them to a diner anyway. Said they needed to talk.
He sat them down in a booth and ordered coffee and something to eat. Styx pushed the plastic bag with his bloody clothes in a corner and rested his head on the wall. “I need to find him, Gordon.” His voice was shaking and even thinking about Noir made his chest hurt. “He… he would never just abandon me… would he?”
“No, boy, he wouldn’t. He came after you when you got kidnapped by Iron-Will, remember? This man is crazy about you. He’d do anything for you. And that’s what has me worried, boy.”
Styx blushed slightly. Then he nodded. “He… after that accident… and me getting shot…” He stopped talking when the waitress approached and clung to his now filled and steaming hot coffee mug. The food he ignored for now. “How much do you know about his… whole ordeal?”
“Well…” Gordon huffed. “I’ve known him since the eighties, if that tells you something. My dad worked with him before I did. He doesn’t exactly try to hide anything. And then I figured out he was unkillable a while later, when we had a whole building go down on a bunch of us and he just strutted out of the ruins like a fucking action movie hero. Pardon me…”
They both smiled for a moment.
“Asked him about it, of course. And he told me the story. Thought him for nuts for a hot second, but eventually figured why shouldn’t I believe him, you know? I’ve seen my fair share of shit and weird stuff.” The captain emptied his coffee and refilled the cup. The waitress seemed to know him well, as she had left behind a whole can.
Styx nodded slightly. “You mentioned that before… when I asked you why you believe me about my powers. Most people don’t.” He sighed and ate a bite of his waffles. “Anyway… Noir… he was… pleading. I can still hear his words in my mind, crystal clear. He was begging to that demon or whatever to take his life… so I would live…”
Styx wiped away the tears streaming from his eyes and grabbed a paper towel. His hands were shaking. “What if it worked, Gordon?”
“Styx… I…”
“The doctor kept saying it’s a miracle I’m even alive, right?”
“… yes.” Gordon sighed. “But boy… in that case… wouldn’t his body be somewhere? He’s disappeared, not dead. As far as we know.”
“I guess so…” There was something like hope in Styx’ heart. Hope. He was hoping that Noir was still out there, alive. But if he was… why didn’t he come to see him? Why did he leave in the first place? He closed his eyes, trying to remember. And then it hit him. “He thinks I’m dead.”

Somewhere else, a ragged figure was stumbling through the streets. Fresh blood mixing with dried one on his coat, Noir walked aimlessly, without paying any mind to where he was going. Three days ago, he had stopped feeling anything. Now he seemed nothing more but a zombie, empty, lifeless, cursed to wander for eternity.
He didn’t even know where he was. After he had fled from the scene a week ago, too afraid to face the truth that Styx might not be alive anymore, he had tried everything to end it. But the demon who had a hold on his soul only seemed to laugh and kept throwing him back. By now, Noir was certain that this was simply what his personal hell looked like.
He had given up on conscious attempts, but he was still testing fate. Two days ago, he got run over by a bus. Today he got stabbed after someone tried to mug him. The pain was already fading away and Noir was already grieving. At least he had temporarily been able to feel something.
Suddenly, he found himself at the gates of a church. Noir huffed, shaking his head, instantly being taken back to his childhood. The smell of incense. The sound of the organ. Cold marble under his knees. The stained-glass windows depicting Christ’s last torment, those pictures especially were still engrained in his mind. So much had happened since then. It’s been ages since he had set foot in a church.
“What would the old priest say if he knew I had made a pact with a demon?” Noir thought to himself, almost grinning. Then he began to wonder if a priest might have been able to help him all this time. He didn’t know what it was, but something made him continue on and he entered the church. It was not quite as grand as the one from his past, but it was gorgeous.
Exhausted, he sank down onto one of the wooden benches, staring ahead. At least he didn’t go up in flames yet, although he had almost hoped he would. Noir didn’t even notice the priest approaching him at first, getting startled out of his thoughts when the old man spoke.
“Are you alright, son? Are you hurt?”
He sounded nothing like the man from his childhood. His voice was soft and genuinely kind and worried. Noir turned to face him, wondering what the priest made of his appearance. He ignored the priest’s questions.
“Do you believe in demons, father?”
“I believe we all carry them inside of us, son. They are the darkness that clouds our minds and makes man do evil. But God grants us the strength to fight them.”
Noir sighed. “But you do not believe they exist in a physical sense?”
“Like in the horror movies? Possessing people and stealing their souls? No, son, that I do not. Is that what plagues you?” He was clearly looking at Noir’s blood-drenched coat. “Are you worried you have been subdued by a demon? If you wish to make a confession, you know my duty forbids me to alert any authorities, right?”
“I am afraid you wouldn’t have the time for my confession, father. But I blame none of it on a demon. But to ease any of your concerns, I have not killed or even attacked anyone. I was, however, stabbed about an hour ago.” Noir pushed his coat aside and looked at the holes and tears in his shirt. The wound was still there, but it finally had stopped bleeding. “This I blame on a demon, though.”
“Pardon?”
“I cannot die, father.”
“Do you wish to?”
“Yes.” He looked up at the cross, gazing at the dying Lord upon it, and took a deep breath.
“The Lord may have decided that it is not yet your time…”
“Please spare me, father. I was religious once, but I am afraid my fate is even out of God’s hands now.”
“… but in those of a demon? What happened, son?”
“I died. Eighty years ago.”
“I am afraid I don’t understand, son.”
“Do you believe in immortality, father?”
“I believe in the immortality of our soul. Life as we know it is only one destination of many, and as our body withers and dies, our soul shall live on elsewhere.”
“And my soul, if I still have one, has been bound to my body. I cannot wither, as much as I wish to.”
“I shall humor your words for now, my son. You clearly are distraught, and I am not one to judge. Why do you wish to die?”
“I couldn’t save the one person that made it all worth it. He died in my arms. I couldn’t save him. And I do not wish to carry on without him.”
“Loss is an integral part of life, son.”
“I know that, father. Too well. But he was the one who gave me purpose, you see? I never wanted to live until I met him. And now he is gone again and there is nothing left for me here. I wish for nothing more than to follow him.”
“I am sorry that I cannot help you, son.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to, father.” Noir closed his eyes. He was shaking. If he hadn’t been in company, he probably would have started sobbing. He felt like someone had ripped his heart from his chest and left a gaping hole where it used to be.
Noir was now convinced that he finally understood what demons were gaining from granting someone immortality: suffering. They were feeding off the pain of an immortal life. It was quite obvious, actually.
“I simply do not understand why people around me, people who do not deserve it, keep dying. But I don’t.”
“Do you think you deserve death, son?”
“Oh yes, father. Or, perhaps, I wish for it too much. So much that instead I deserve the torture that is being forced to live…”
“Have you ever considered, son, that there is a reason why you are alive? A reason that is not to torture you?”
“I used to think I was meant to help people.”
“And I, my son, think that you are still meant to help others.” The priest smiled at him warmly. “Demons are beings of negative energy, son. Darkness. And we fight darkness with light. As God happens to be mine, you need to find yours.”
“That’s the problem, father. I thought I had. But it is extinguished now.” Noir rose from the bench and walked towards the altar, falling to his knees. He felt the priest watching him as he muttered his prayers in Latin, just like he had been taught. He cursed God under his breath as he turned the white marble red with his blood.
When he woke up again, Noir found himself on a couch, covered in a cozy blanket. He groaned as he slowly sat up, shivering and sweating at the same time. Across from him, the priest regarded him with a fatherly smile and a worried gaze.
“What happened?”
“You passed out, son. Apparently, you have been stabbed in the heart.”
Noir almost snorted at the irony. “I am very sorry for burdening you, father.”
“Do not fret, son. I am certain that God led you to me. You may not believe in Him anymore, but He certainly believes in you.”
The silver haired man grimaced. “I told you, father, this is a demon’s work.”
“I have heard of the Mark of the Butterfly before.” The priest admitted. “Of course, I have believed these stories to be mere myths until now. But after witnessing you, my son… You shed your blood, you bear the marks, but you rise again. Just like our Lord and Savior.”
Noir sighed. He was tired. Too tired to argue with a priest about the curse of his immortality. He carefully took the glass of water that had been prepared for him in both hands, afraid to drop it. He drank greedily and fell back asleep afterwards. The next time he awoke, he was feverish, his skin burning, and he had no recollection of anything that had happened. The priest was hovering above him, carefully pressing a wet towel to his hot forehead.
“Mass starts soon, my son, but I will return to you afterwards. Please do not move, you are still heavily wounded.”
Noir mumbled a reply, sighing. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Never in his many years had he felt so terrible, so… vulnerable. He felt every surge of sharp pain originating from his chest. The bandage around it, the priest must have cared about him, was itchy and wet. How was he still bleeding? Noir realized that it felt just like the last time he had been stabbed in the heart. Like he was actually dying. Only slower this time.
He closed his eyes and tried to embrace it. It felt good.

In a different part of the city, Styx was a walking bundle of nerves, ready to explode. He didn’t know what to do and it made him feel absolutely miserable. Besides that, the captain had also convinced him to accompany him back to the precinct and so he was sitting there now, growing more impatient by the minute. He couldn’t just sit around, he had to find Noir!
But where would he even start to look?
“Are you sure you don’t want me to book you a hotel?” Gordon placed a cup of coffee in front of him and looked at him with worry. Styx hated it. He was fine. They should be worried about Noir, not him.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He drank the coffee more out of courtesy than anything else. “Gordon…”
“We’re working on it, boy. We can’t just drive around the whole city hoping that we spot him somewhere. He could be anywhere as far as we know. We notified every other precinct, and we filed a missing report. That’s all we can do.”
“It’s not enough!” Styx whined. “It’s been eight days, Gordon… what have you been doing so far?”
“Styx…” The police captain sighed out loud and took a seat next to him. “We’re going to find him, I promise. Listen… I know how much he means to you. And I know how much you mean to him.” He smirked as he noticed Styx’ face blushing. “If he assumes you died, which he probably does, he is probably out there causing ruckus to get himself hurt.”
“He…” Styx gulped. “… because of me?”
“It’s not your fault, boy, you hear me? That’s just how he is. Let’s hope that this demon’s contract is still going strong and let’s hope he doesn’t kill anyone in the meantime.”
Styx chuckled; he couldn’t help it. “Yeah…” He took a deep breath. “Do you think he’s still alive, Gordon? I’m… scared. What if it worked? What if he traded his life for mine?”
“Well, boy, you’re the one with the spidey senses…”
“Hey! They’re not ‘spidey senses’! It’s called psychometry and-“
“Yeah, boy…” Gordon laughed. “… alright. Anyway, what do you feel?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you think about him. What does your… power… tell you?”
“That’s… that’s not how that works, Gordon, you know it. I need something of his, preferably something he lost after that accident. And even then, only memories up to that moment will be attached to it and-“
“Boy…” The captain sighed and shook his head, but at the same time he was gently smiling at Styx. “You’re really not that bright sometimes.”
“Hey!”
“How about I take you to his apartment? You still have that spare key?”
“Yes, I-… wait. How do you know that?”
The captain simply regarded him with a slight grin, emptied his own coffee mug and reached for his car keys. “Let’s go. My men will get in contact if they hear or find anything. You’ll spent the rest of the day there, if that’s okay with you. I’ll pick you up again tomorrow and we will find Noir. I promise.”
“I… alright.” Styx nodded, sighed and then followed Gordon back outside. He didn’t exactly look forward to spending the night in Noir’s apartment without the other man, but he wouldn’t feel better in a lonely, anonymous hotel room either.
When Styx entered the apartment, it was instantly clear that no one had been here in a few days. The coffee on the coffee table was old and dried to the mug, the air was kind of stale. Styx opened the fridge, tears welling in his eyes when he spotted his favorite brand of yogurt. He sat down on the sofa and tried to enjoy the view, but he was only able to think about Noir, wondering if he was down there, somewhere.
After a while of doing nothing and then taking a quick shower, he retreated into the bedroom. The bedsheets were still as ruffled as they had left them and Styx pressed his head into the pillow, breathing in what was left of their combined scents. “Where are you, you fucking idiot?”
He fell asleep somehow, but he felt barely rested when he woke up the next morning. Strange dreams of death and, strangely enough, churches had kept him on edge. Styx downed three cups of coffee while waiting for the captain and wandered around the apartment, trying to find something that could lead him to Noir.
Just as he had expected, he found nothing. There was no magical intuition or a heartfelt note or anything else like they kept showing in the movies. The apartment was cold and empty, without Noir’s presence it became just another space with history, a past but no present and no future. And the thought of this place turning into just that made Styx’ chest ache.
He looked at the radio and remembered them dancing together. The first time it had happened had also been the first time they truly confessed their feelings to each other. After that, dancing had somehow become a thing they enjoyed. Sometimes it was just them being silly, other times felt like right out of a fairytale. What if they would never be able to do this anymore?
Styx took a deep breath and tried to recollect himself. He had to stop thinking about what could and could not be. As far as he knew, Noir was still out there in the city, somewhere. And he had to find him. But… how?
Defeated and exhausted, he sat down on the couch and allowed the minutes to pass while he waited for Gordon to finally show up. It didn’t actually take that long, when he heard the doorbell and checked the time only about an hour had passed, but it had felt like an eternity. Styx rushed to the door, not even allowing the captain to come in. He didn’t want to spend any more time in the apartment without Noir.
“Hey, boy, calm your horses!” Gordon snorted, resting one hand on Styx’ shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“No.” The punk admitted and sighed. “It’s so cold and lonely in there, Gordon. In hindsight, a hotel would have been better…”
“I’m sorry, boy. So, you didn’t find anything? Not that I was expecting it…”
“No. But… oh, never mind. Can we leave now?”
The police captain huffed. “Alright.” He turned around and the two men took the elevator down, then walked outside the building to Gordon’s car. Styx wasn’t optimistic in the slightest, his stomach was churning, and he felt anxious like never before. But if Gordon was willing to patrol the city to try and somehow find Noir… they had to give it a shot.
“How are we doing this?” He asked after they both had climbed into the car and the captain had started driving. He received a shrug and another huff.
“Honestly? No clue. We’ve tried this before. But naturally, we don’t have the resources to check every alley and every building. But, as I have said before, you and he… the two of you, you have a bond.” Gordon glanced at Styx and smiled to himself as he noticed the punk blushing once again. It was truly endearing. “Just do what they always tell you in those kitschy romance movies, boy. Listen to your heart. Or rather, your powers.”
“You think it’ll work?” – “It’s the best shot we’ve got.”
“Alright.” Styx nodded, staring out of the car window as the city was passing by slowly outside. He had no idea what else to do, so he started thinking, or rather worrying, about Noir again. It had been nine days since the accident. Nine days since he, Styx, had been shot and had almost died. Nine days since Noir pleaded to a demon to trade his immortality for Styx’ life. He started tearing up at the thought, quickly wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Nine days since he had last seen Noir. And God knew where he was…
God. Styx snorted, remembering his strange dream. The church. But considering Noir’s stance on faith, a church would be the last place he would seek shelter in. The last place… maybe that’s what he had done. But Styx doubted it. He figured that his dream had been exactly just that, a dream, and that he was merely holding onto every straw he could grasp.
On the other hand, however, there was still this feeling in his gut. It was something else than the worry he was also feeling; something that made him feel like they were somehow on the right path. Styx took a deep breath and turned away from the window to face Gordon, who was concentrating on driving and complaining about the traffic.
“Gordon?”
“Yes, boy?”
“Are there, uhm… are there any churches nearby? Preferably catholic ones.”
The police captain glanced at him sideways. “Catholic churches? That’s very specific… why?”
“Noir was raised catholic.”
“I know that, boy. But I also know about his current opinion on anything related to religion, especially the one he grew up with. He’d rather die than set foot in a church, boy. So… what makes you think he might be in one?”
“You said I should trust my powers, right?”
“Yes. I said that. And are your powers telling you that he’s in a church?”
“Not… exactly. But… I know it sounds strange, but I had a dream. A dream about beautiful glass-stained windows and Noir kneeling at the altar… with…” Styx took a deep breath. “… my body in his arms. There was blood everywhere. But most of it was his. It was like… he was giving it to me…” He shuddered. Now that he had talked about it, the images slowly crept back into his brain.
“And you think that it might have been something more than a dream?”
“Maybe? I… I don’t know.” He sighed. “I just want him back, Gordon.”
“I understand, boy. And we’re not giving up until we know where he is, you hear me?”
Styx nodded, attempting a smile. “I know. But… I’m still worried, Gordon. And scared. There are so many questions on my mind. If he is still alive but he never tried to get in touch, he really must believe that I am dead… but even if so, wouldn’t he have checked on me to confirm?”
“I suppose the confirmation would have made it all too real, if it had proven correct. I can understand that, I’m afraid.” The captain muttered and the punk had to agree with him. “Me too.”
The two men fell silent again as Gordon kept driving through the city, pointing out occasional churches to Styx, who always just shook his head and seemed more and more discouraged the more time passed. He tried to listen to his power, as the captain had put it, he really did. But it just didn’t do anything. There was no feeling of electricity in the air, nothing was whispering to him, nothing was pulling him towards it like an unseen force.
Until it was. Something was tugging at his heart that was beating heavily in his chest. They had just reached a rather secluded neighborhood, one that Styx couldn’t recall ever having been to. It was almost on the other side of the city, past a few dark alleyways and sketchy streets. “Gordon? Where are we?”
“Huh? Oh… that’s the Spanish District, boy. They have a great community and some of the best food I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. Look at how colorful the houses are.”
“Is there a church nearby?” Styx didn’t think it was possible, but his heart started beating even faster. It fluttered in his chest, and he had to take a few deep breaths to collect himself. Fear and excitement overcame him at the same time.
“Still hanging on to that dream of yours, boy?”
“Please, Gordon. I feel… something. It’s like I am being pulled towards somewhere. It’s very similar to when certain objects are calling to me.”
“I guess the church is as good a place to start as any.” The police captain agreed, quickly parking his car off to the side. “If I remember correctly, the church is not far from here.”

Indeed, not far from them a heart was still bleeding. The wounded man had been unresponsive for hours and with his last uttered whispers he had begged the priest to grant him this one wish. He did not want to be saved. Since then, Noir grew weaker with every second, still fighting whatever it was that kept him alive. He didn’t want it anymore. Death crept closer and he was ready to welcome it with open arms.

It should have been a strange sight, the punk and the police detective walking next to each other in the streets of the Spanish district; however, in truth, it wasn’t. Both Styx with his Greek complexion and colorful style and Gordon with his dark skin blended right into their surroundings.
As the captain had promised, the church wasn’t far. They reached it after a few minutes, Styx fighting with himself not to rush ahead. While he didn’t actually know where the church was, he felt himself being pulled towards it more and more the closer they got to it. If Noir wasn’t there, then it had to be something else. But it just had to be Noir. It had to.
The small building was rather unimpressive from the outside. It was a church alright and Styx could make out the stained glass windows on its sides, but there was nothing else about it. The punk came to a halt in front of the entrance and took a deep breath, the tugging in his chest was almost painful now. Gordon looked at him, waiting.
“I think he’s here, Gordon.” He pressed a hand to his heart and tried to calm himself. The captain simply nodded and held open the door. Once inside, Styx gasped loudly. He had no explanation as to how this could be possible, but it was: The building he found himself in now was the same one that he had visited in his dream. The colorful windows were just as gorgeous, casting rainbows onto the marble floors.
There was no mass right now and therefore the church was empty, their steps echoing into nothingness. Styx didn’t know what he had expected, but Noir was, of course, not here. And while the church was the same as it had been in his dream, there was no blood on the altar stairs and no Noir kneeling there. Off to the side, however, stood a small man in a priest’s garb, clutching a rosemary in his hands and praying, a few lit candles in front of him.
“… ease his suffering and allow him to cross into your kingdom, Lord. Amen.”
The priest sighed heavily, as if he had a heavy burden to carry. Styx gulped as he approached him, while Gordon was staying behind.
“Excuse me, father?”
As the man turned around to face him, Styx couldn’t help but notice something similar to recognition in his eyes. How was it possible that this priest, whom he was certain he had never met before, recognized him? A warm and relieved smile on the old man’s face confused him even more.
“Oh Lord, thank you!” He laughed, walked towards Styx with quick steps and put his hands on the punk’s shoulder. “Oh, son, you have no idea how happy I am to see you!”
He could only stutter.
“Oh, apologies, child. I am Padre Lucio. And you must be Styx, if I am not mistaken?”
“I…” Styx needed a moment to find his voice again. “… I, uhm, yes. I am. Styx… that’s me. Have we met before?”
“Not in person, no, my child. But…”
“… the dream. That… was you… father?”
“It was, indeed, son. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to reach out to you, but it appears to have worked. Your gift is stronger than you realize.” The priest lowered his hands, stepped around him and walked across the altar, to a wooden door hidden in a corner. “Before we continue, my child, I must warn you…”
Styx’ heart skipped a beat. “Is he…?” He didn’t dare to finish the question.
“He is alive. He is, however, not doing very well. He firmly believes that he has lost you. He is grieving.” The priest sighed. “Besides, he is heavily injured and wishes to die. To be with you, I presume. His state is why I attempted to reach you, my child.”
“But he… uhm… I don’t know how to explain this, but… he can’t…”
“I know all about him, son. But he is fighting it, like a fever. You will see for yourself. I have hopes that once he sees you are well, he also shall begin to heal.” They had walked through a small corridor and now came to a halt in front of yet another door. He turned around and smiled at Styx warmly. The punk hadn’t really noticed yet, but tears were streaming down his face.
“Are you ready, son? His injury is covered in bandages and under blankets, but I will warn you nonetheless.”
“I just want to see him again, father.”
“Very well.”
As soon as the door was opened, Styx stumbled into the room, his eyes fixed on a camping cod and a sofa which together had been turned into a makeshift bed. On it was a figure covered in blankets, but Styx instantly recognized the unmistakable silver hair. Somehow, Noir was even paler than usual, and he was barely breathing but visibly trembling.
Styx sobbed. Noir’s head turned slowly, but his eyes stayed closed.
The punk rushed to his side, stumbling over his own feet, landing painfully on his knees. Before Noir could react to him, he had already thrown his arms around the man’s shoulders, pressing his face into the pillows next to him. Styx was outright crying now, he had trouble breathing and it took him ages until he finally got enough air into his lungs to speak: “Noir! I’m… I’m here! I’m okay…”
“Styx…” A familiar voice but barely more than a whisper. A hand touching him, stroking through his hair, as if Noir had to make sure that he was truly real and not just a hallucination. Maybe he did still think he might just be dreaming, as he pulled his arm away soon after, his body shaking.
Noir was mumbling to himself, but Styx couldn’t understand a word as he was too busy with sobbing himself. He was still crying into the pillow, nuzzling into Noir’s neck, ugly sounds coming from his throat. A part of him hoped that the priest had left them alone.
“I’m here, Noir…” Styx whined again, repeating the same words over and over again, because he didn’t know what else to say. Eventually, he raised his head, wiping tears and snot from his face. He blinked and found himself looking right into Noir’s eyes, which were also watery with tears. Styx smiled. Noir groaned and turned his head to face the ceiling.
“Are you… crying…?”
“No…” The silver haired man grumbled. “I’m dying.”
He sounded so deadpan and serious that Styx couldn’t help but to start laughing, no matter how unfitting it was to their current situation.
“Yeah…” Noir’s voice was hoarse and still barely more than a whisper. “That’s my Styx…” He seemed to try himself at a smile, but only managed to grimace. “I’m glad it worked…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, biting his lips as he was hit by a fresh surge of pain. “Jesus… fucking… Christ…”
“Watch your language, old man. We’re in a church.” Styx said, but his earlier laughter had traded places with concern. Whatever wounds Noir was suffering from, shouldn’t they have healed by now? Did Noir actually think that he was going to die? The priest had said that he was fighting it. Was that still true?
“Hey…” Styx reached for his face, cupping it with both hands and forcing Noir to look him into the eyes. “I’m here. I’m alive. You can’t get rid of me that fast…”
Their lips met, trembling and gentle; both of them were out of breath. Noir sighed.
“I thought you were…”
“So did I.”
“Why?”
“The things you said, Noir… what you… tried to do. I was alive and you were gone and I thought…”
“I meant every word I said, darling.” Noir smiled at Styx softly and pulled him into another kiss. “I wouldn’t want to live without you.”
“And…” Styx gulped and tried to blink away the tears welling in his eyes. “And I don’t want to lose you either, Noir. So please stop… please…” He allowed himself to be pulled into Noir’s embrace.
“You’re here…” The silver haired man whispered. “You’re here.” He had stopped trembling now, but his skin was still feverish. “You’re here… and I am dying… in a darn… church…” Noir tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a pained cough. He had to notice, however, that he was already feeling somewhat better. Knowing that Styx was alive, having him right there next to him, it made some of his strength return. Although, that didn’t change the fact that he had been stabbed in the heart.
Noir grasped Styx’ hand, holding it tight, and smiled at him before his eyes closed and he drifted away. He stopped fighting it, embraced it instead. He gasped as the pain rushed through his whole body, making it feel like he was being stabbed all over again. Then he lost consciousness.
Styx, not knowing what was going on, panicked. He grabbed Noir, started shaking him and felt sobs building up in his throat. “Noir? Noir! Please…” His heart was hammering against his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to start yelling. Only the fact that he was suddenly short of breath stopped him.
As well as a grounding hand on his shoulder. The priest had either never left them, or he had returned. “It is alright, my son.”
“No! Nothing is alright! He… he’s…”
“Healing.”
“What?” Styx paused and slowly let go of Noir’s shoulders while his breathing returned to normal. “I…” He took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay… okay…” Looking at the rather motionless man lying there, it was hard to believe. But if Styx looked closely enough, he could see his chest falling and rising, even under the covers and the bandages. He had never seen Noir this hurt before, and he truly had no idea what his immortality actually entailed or how it worked.
“Judging by his injury, this might take a while, my child. Come with me.” The priest suggested, but Styx hesitated. He was afraid of leaving Noir alone, leaving him out of his sight. He wouldn’t want to admit it out loud, but he was scared that if he turned around, Noir would suddenly vanish.
“Gordon is still waiting for you, is he not? You should at least tell him that you found what you came here looking for.”
“… wait.” Styx blinked slowly. “You know Gordon, father?”
“We are… acquainted. I doubt he would call me a friend, but he has visited this church before. His wife grew up in this neighborhood, I think.”
“I see…” The punk nodded, trying to wipe his face clean with his sleeve. “I guess you’re right… but I really don’t want to leave him alone…”
“You won’t help yourself by sulking at his side, my child. You saved him, there is nothing else you can do right now.” The priest’s warm smile finally convinced Styx to get up and follow him out of the room and back into the church. There, Gordon was silently sitting on one of the benches, clearly a little uncomfortable.
He basically jumped to his feet when he saw Styx and the priest approach, his brows furrowed in worry. The punk’s tear-stained face didn’t seem to help to ease him. “Have you… is he…?”
Styx sighed, his arms wrapped around his own body to keep himself from hugging Gordon and sobbing into his shirt. Sure, him and the police captain were kind of close, but they were definitely not close enough for that. He needed comfort, but he wouldn’t dare to ask either of the other men present to provide it to him.
Which was why it pretty much startled him when strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug. “Thanks…” He sighed, already fighting back tears again. “I’m sorry. He’s… he’s fine. I’m just…”
“It’s alright, boy.” Gordon gave him a careful squeeze. “It’s been some rough days. I get it. You don’t need to apologize to me.” He kept hugging Styx, even though he seemed slightly uncomfortable, and looked at the priest. “Thank you for taking care of him, father.”
“Simply doing my duty, just as you do yours, captain.”
Gordon nodded ever so slightly and let go of Styx but was still awkwardly patting his back. “Well… I am glad we found him.” He seemed truly relieved, he wasn’t frowning as much anymore. “Is he alright?”
“He will be.” The priest smiled reassuringly. “He was fighting to die, for lack of better words, because he believed his light extinguished…” He nodded towards Styx. “But now that they have been reunited, he should allow himself to heal again. Nonetheless, it may take a while. After all, he has been stabbed in the heart. It took me hours to clean the blood off the marble floors.”
Gordon couldn’t help but to stare at the priest silently for a moment. Next to him, however, Styx was quietly chuckling. So, the police captain simply accepted the situation, as well as the priest’s invitation for coffee. After all, there was nothing else to do right now. Except…
“I almost forgot.” He huffed. “Go ahead, I won’t be long. I need to call my men to tell them that we found that bloody idiot… pardon, father. But it’s been some rough few days.” The priest simply nodded, and he and Styx disappeared. Gordon left the church to make a few phone calls before he returned and joined the two other men in the kitchen of a house off to the side of the bigger building. The room that Noir was resting in right now was a part of it as well.
As soon as he entered, Gordon’s nose was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, an espresso machine sizzling on the stove. He took a deep breath and sighed contently, finally allowing relief to wash over him and remove some of the tension that had been sitting on his shoulders. He hadn’t realized until now how tense he had been the last ten days, too focused had he been on the task to find Noir.
The three men sat together in content silence, each of them enjoying their steaming cup of coffee. The silence was welcomed by all of them, none of them even considering breaking it. Even Styx, who normally wouldn’t stop babbling especially when he was feeling anxious, didn’t mind the quiet. He was busy listening to a heartbeat next to his own, over the time becoming more and more steady.
He was so lost in its rhythm, that he didn’t notice the warmth spreading in his chest until it hit him like the heat of a fireplace. Styx looked up, looking straight at Noir who was standing in the doorway. He was a mess, covered in sweat and blood, but, nonetheless, he was alive.
And he huffed. “Having a coffee break without me?”
The silver haired man walked towards them, slowly, until he fell into Styx’ arms and gripped him with surprising force, pressing their bodies together. The punk could do nothing but accept the embrace and return it. It lasted for a while, no one daring to interrupt the moment until Noir started to shiver on account of having shown up in nothing but pants and a shirt draped over his shoulders.
As soon as Noir was back in his clothes, he looked barely different than usual. He had lost some weight and needed a shave, but the appearance of the unkempt detective brooding over a cup of coffee was a familiar one. Gordon wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or concerned, Styx was simply happy to have Noir back. They spent some more time with silence and coffee until they said their goodbyes to the priest. Noir even used his words to thank him.

And then, everything became a blur. His memories started to flow together, past and present merging to a giant black hole that was eating itself. When Noir woke up in his own bed, he barely remembered what had happened anymore. But Styx was right next to him, lying in his arms, and it was all that mattered at the moment.
He sighed, contently, and pulled the young man closer. The pain was still there, but it was slowly fading as Styx opened his eyes and smiled at him. Noir’s kiss was a gentle promise. He was here and he had no intent of ever leaving again.
“I missed you.” He whispered, caressing blushing cheeks and planting soft kisses on scrapes and bruises on Styx’ face. As the punk’s heart leaped, so did his. If Noir has learned one thing in the past few days, it was the following: His heart was beating for Styx. In more than one way.
And thanks to him, he was alive.
They were alive.
And no one could take that away from them.