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(“You’re fucking stupid, you realize that?” Tucker sneered at TSV, resting his hand gently on his cheekbone, a sarcastic smile on his face. “I know.” He rebuttals, his frown turning into a playful grin, his large canines poking out from the creases of his lips.
Tucker glances at the ground, looking back up to meet TSV’s gaze. The mutant mans’ face was full of determination. Tucker knew deep down in his heart that this was the last time he’d hold TSV in his arms and… couldn’t accept it. He watches his grin turn to a soft smile and feels his scar-covered arms cling around his waist, his face being pulled onto his shoulder.
“I love you, thmadjoy.” He cooed in his soft, falsetto whisper, TSV’s face pressed gently against Tucker’s neck. He can’t help but feel embarrassed by TSV’s nickname for him, how they met over a social media platform due to the damn apocalypse and how he so hopelessly fell for a man with blood that can kill people and too much confidence for his own good. He couldn’t help but feel content in the moment, the warm embrace of his dead cold arms around his body, his pale face swirling in purples and reds resting gently on his shoulder, his slow methodical heartbeat echoing in Tucker’s eardrums. It was all he could ask for. It’s all he’s ever wanted.)
A call rung on Tuckers’ phone, it was from Natalia. He sheepishly answered the call, holding it up to his ear to hear what his daughter had to say.
“He did it, Tucker, he actually fucking did it…” She shouted, her voice shaky and distraught, but also a twinge of excitement and determination. His eyes widen, his frown turning to a grimace as he realized what she was referring to. The strobe ship. He actually shot it down. Tucker held the phone a little closer to his ear and took a deep breath, his heart rate beginning to fasten as hundreds of thoughts flood into his skull.
“Good.” He choked out, his voice raw and numb. “See you soon, babygirl.”
He pulled his phone down from his ear and hung up. His screensaver was of the three of them, they had taken the picture together when they had set up a fire and danced to songs. Whenever Tucker would look at that image, he’d feel an overwhelming sense of euphoria and joy, seeing his lover and his daughter both so happy in his presence, but now it just created a strong feeling of emptiness, an emptiness different from the feeling he got when TSV would be out of bed in the morning, devouring canned beans in the bathroom or smoking cigarettes outside. This feeling was throbbing in his chest, the horrible reality that he was most likely no longer alive, that the man he had waited so eagerly to come back from patrol missions, the man that would shake him awake during a nightmare and caress his face gently with his hand, repeating over and over how it was gonna be okay and how everything is alright, was dead, and there was nothing Tucker could’ve done to prevent him from going through with this.
A day passed, they didn’t find his body or his phone… or anything, to be frank. Pierce marked him as MIA, as so Tucker has heard being passed around base. That gave him hope, the hope that maybe he was still out there, that he was just in the woods trying to find his way back to base, that maybe he wasn’t gone, that Tucker could hold him again, that he could feel his scar tissue covered hands cradle his face as they lay together in each others warmth again.
A militia officer of Pierces approaches Tucker, gently waving his hand out to the man, trying to attract his attention. The brunette man looks up from his phone, staring soullessly at the officer.
“What do you need.” He says, his eyes drooping low and tired, he hasn’t slept.
“Commander would like to speak with you.” The officer mutters, beginning to slowly walk away.
Whatever. It’s not like he gives a shit what Pierce says. He stands up from the respective bench he’s sat himself down on and slowly began to walk to Pierces office, the regular walk usually only being a few minutes feeling like hours. His footsteps felt heavy and slow and his head couldn’t help but hang, his neck aching as he looked around at his surroundings. Several officers were walking around, making tiny chat when they noticed Tucker stumble up to Pierces tent, their faces contorting with worry as he slowly unzipped the tent, stepping inside.
Pierce was sitting at his makeshift desk, stacks upon stacks of paperwork surrounding him, a small pen in one of his hands that was resting tensely on the desk, the other hand gripping the bridge of his nose tightly.
He doesn’t look up at Tucker.
There was a small chain sitting on his desk, a little, flattened sheet of metal with letters engraved into it as the charm. A dogtag, like the ones used in the military. It looked painfully familiar, but Tucker was too far away to get a good glance at it. He stood at the end of the room nervously, his hands formally balled up behind his back, a gentle picking at his cuticles coming from his nails.
He was a patrol agent himself, he shouldn’t be fidgeting while he waited in aching silence, the quietness starting to ring in his ears. He glanced over at Pierce again and watched him reach for a small piece of paper and the dogtag, folding it up into the paper and slid it over towards Tucker, his eyes shrouded in sorrow.
“He would’ve wanted you to have this. Here.” He spoke up, signaling to the paper.
Tucker reached for the paper and dropped the dogtag into his hands, his heart sinking into his chest as he read out the words on the piece of metal.
“TSV”
(Surname UNKNOWN)
[PHONE NUMBER]
(BLOOD TYPE UNKNOWN)
He stared at the dogtag for a long moment, rereading the text carefully over and over. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. It was so unbelievable, it was fake. This had to have just been a dream or something, this couldn’t possibly be happening. He reread the dogtag again before stashing it into his pocket, his attention turning to the paper. It was TSV’s agent status document. There was a large, red stamp over his greyscale portrait that read out… DECEASED.
His throat closed up as he tried to swallow the lump in it, his tongue going bone dry as he reread the stamp again. This was a nightmare. They didn’t have his body… they didn’t have any proof he was gone, but all the circumstances point to him being gone, gone forever. This didn’t feel like Tucker’s regular nightmares, his brains cruel retellings of his trauma, of all the people he’s lost. This felt real , and that made his stomach churn. He glanced up at Pierce before nodding gently, folding the document back up and shoving it into his pocket.
He stood motionlessly in his office, his stomach in a twist. TSV never let him look at his dogtag, he’d always keep it in a locked drawer in his tent, or tucked inside his hoodie when on patrol. He’d pull away from Tucker when he’d try to grab for it, he’d bat his hands away and tell him to stop it, playfully albeit, but still... Would he really have wanted him to have this piece of scrap metal? It has barely any information on it, since he didn’t give up his legal name to Pierce, and since he could in no way survive a blood transfer, but it was burning a hole in his jeans pocket.
He can barely hear Pierce talking to him, telling him that it’s gonna be fine and that he’ll be okay over the loud ringing in his eardrums. How could this be real. He wanted to scream, to cry, to reach for his pistol and storm off to go find TSV and save him, but there was no use. It had been a day, if he had survived the fall from the ship, he definitely has bled out by now. Fuck. How could this be real. TSV was a man of steel, he survived a deathly infection in his arm and sustained a blood supply that kills regular people, he was a damn hero, and now his body was sitting in some forest being gored by wolves or sitting lifelessly. He held his yap in and slowly began to regain his consciousness, his eyes blinking rapidly as his ears quieted down.
“Goodnight, Pierce.”
He didn’t know why he’d say goodnight, since he wouldn’t be sleeping, at least not where he usually rests. Tucker walks around the tents aimlessly, getting a glance at his, noticing all the little things TSV had put on the walls or the closets full of his clothes and possessions. His bag of gadgets that he had brought into Tuckers’ tent from his car, his collection of torn hoodies and bloodstained t-shirts, his blood samples and his collections of physical photos of himself and his past friends. That was all gone now. It was gone. TSV was dead and he couldn’t change it. He couldn’t change the past now.
Tucker found himself in TSV’s old tent, the one he occupied until he moved into Tucker’s permanently. It was barren, only a few things remained. His pullout mattress and his drawers all remained in the tent, along with some sweaters of Danyons in his closet. Heh… He remembered Danyon, from how TSV used to act about him, he must’ve been a good friend before he was corrupted, Tucker couldn’t help but hate his guts now, though. He scavenged throughout TSV’s drawers, not exactly knowing why. He wanted closure, he wanted…anything, anything besides this piece of shit document and a dogtag TSV didn’t even want him to have.
After what felt like hours of looking around, he comes across a thin cardboard box, labeled “Tucker” on the top of it. It sat vacant in TSV’s closet, collecting dust. He had no idea how long TSV had this box, or what was inside. He gently lifted it up and read the sharpie writing on the side of it…
“Please read this when i’m dead.”
He stared at the writing, his heart tangled and tight. He felt as if he was suffocating, like all the oxygen was suddenly pulled out of his lungs. He stared at the box and placed it back into the closet, shutting the doors and walked over to TSV’s old bed. He didn’t want to see his tent, he didn’t want to notice TSV’s scent on his pillows or his cigarette tray on the bedside table, he didn’t want to see Nat or Pierce or anyone right now, he just wanted to see TSV walk into the tent and greet him with a hug and a kiss, but he knew that he was dead, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do to change that.
As he walked towards the bed he felt himself collapse onto it, his legs weak and frail. The pillow smelled like TSV just faintly, he threw it across the room, it hitting the side of the tent before falling to the ground. There was no use… how the fuck did he survive without him in the past. How did he function without his lover always having his back, always there to hug and kiss him when he wanted it, always there to hold him in his arms when he was afraid, always there to comfort him out of an emotional breakdown…
He didn’t sleep that night.
His shifts continued as usual, his performance decreasing every night he went out to protect the base. He couldn’t fucking work properly anymore, he couldn’t hold his assault rifle without his hands shivering rapidly, he couldn’t focus on sudden movements out in the dark forest, he couldn’t function. He wouldn’t eat, drink, or talk to anyone for days on end, only talking when Nat would force him to eat and drink water. He hated it, he hated the fact that he couldn’t be strong anymore, even around his daughter. He couldn’t hold up his strong man persona anymore, the only man he could be vulnerable around was dead and he couldn’t accept it, he wouldn’t.
(“You know I hate liquo r, Tuck.” TSV snickered, holding a small shot glass filled with bourbon. Tucker grinned slightly, taking the glass from him to sip on it, slowly licking off a tiny drop that slipped out of the cup onto his arm.
“I know that, sunshine.”
TSV gazed out at the brunette man, staring into his icy blue eyes. They weren’t drinkers, but it had been so cold recently that a little alcohol would keep them warm for the time being, at least until their blankets were cleaned and dried.)
It was normal to lose people around the base, it’s what comes with living with a military organization, and he’s lost people before, every single person he’s ever goddamn loved as slipped out of his grasp, their bodies either missing or brutally blown up into hundreds of gory pieces. He had Nat, sure, but it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t have a bond like that with Nat, he still felt like he needed to be strong around her, to be a good role model for her, to help her whenever she needed it, but he couldn’t do that without TSV. He couldn’t help her without someone who’ll help him.
His mother, his father, his sister, Flynn, and now TSV. They were all gone, lost to the apocalypse. He couldn’t possibly remember how he lived without his family back in the day, and now he’s feeling the pain again, just for his boyfriend. It hurt, it hurt so much, he hated waking up alone and eating alone and going out on patrol alone. He hated how he’d mistakenly reach over in bed, trying to find TSV’s cold arm to pull over his torso, only to find dead air. He hated instinctively turning to his side while in the bathroom, expecting TSV to walk up to him and to hug him tightly, whispering sweet nothings into his ears, only to feel thick raw loneliness.
It has been weeks since he bathed himself, since he brushed his teeth, since he had a restful nights sleep. He couldn’t get out of bed sometimes, he so desperately wanted him back, it ate at him like a horrible infection. Why does he deserve all this pain, why does he deserve to lose everyone and everything in his damn life. Curse this goddamn apocalypse, curse everything these invaders have put him through. Fuck. Does it even matter.
TSV lost himself years ago, ever since he went crazy over Danyon in the bathroom of his house. Tucker never got to love his past, non-traumatized self, and I guess TSV never got to love that side of Tucker either. He never got to meet the man who’d make him tea every time he got a cold, the man who put the glimmer of light in his eyes every time he saw him, the man who made him feel safe and loved after everything else has disappeared. He loved a husk of a previous man, not to the extent of him being nonhuman like Danyon, but the man he fell in love with wasn’t Raymond, it was TSV, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty.
All the times he called him ignorant, all the times he shouted at him or scolded him came flooding back into his head, those times being way before they established their relationship, but still. He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, but it’s not like he had the damn energy to use his reflexes like that anyway. He was still in TSV’s old bed, wearing TSV’s old dark grey hoodie that he would wear almost everywhere, he practically showered in that thing. He hadn’t eaten in days, his skin clung to his bones and his stomach growled, he didn’t bother, he’d just be wasting perfectly good food for soldiers who actually know how to do their damn job.
Pierce was noticing his incompetence and called him to his office, which Tucker did not bother to show up to. He didn’t give a fuck if he lost his job, this was voluntary work, it’s not like he was getting paid for it. He didn’t care if he was told to leave camp, he didn’t care if he had his guns confiscated or his knives. He couldn’t bother to look up at the officer that had entered his tent one night, he just stared down at his lap, longing, yearning. His eye were drenched in sorrow, he hadn’t cried a single time since this happened, he didn’t want to waste the water or he didn’t want Nat to see how emotionally unstable this had made him. He felt as if his humanity was being purposely stripped of him, like he couldn’t show any emotion besides crippling depression.
He hasn’t shown his face around camp recently. He didn’t want to go work, he didn’t want to sit next to the campfire that he and TSV had lit together and sat around while chatting and laughing while on patrol, he didn’t want to hold the rifle that TSV had written his initials on with white sharpie, he didn’t want to hook his holster back to his jeans or put his work clothes on. He didn’t want to do anything, it’s not like there was a point.
(“Now what are you doing…” Tucker asked, walking over to his significant other.
TSV looked over at him and grinned, holding a white paint sharpie in his left hand, writing on Tucker’s hunting rifle. “Just makin’ sure you don’t forget me while out on duty.” He snickered, closing the pen and turning towards Tucker, holding the gun improperly in his hands. TSV was a knife type of guy, he didn’t like firearms, but he’d gladly watch Tucker do target practice while at training.
Tucker takes the gun and reads what he wrote on his weapon…”TSV”. Under that were his real initials, his last name still being completely unknown to Tucker.
“R.S”
He smiled, it made him feel warm inside, he enjoyed being reminded of TSV’s presence…)
No meeting with Pierce, Nat hasn’t spoken to Tucker in days, he felt incredibly isolated, just rotting in TSV’s old tent. He knew eventually he would have to pick up his gun again, to walk back to his tent, to start taking better care of himself again, but it all felt so disingenuous. He didn’t have TSV to remind him to brush his teeth or to spoon canned pasta into his mouth when he was weak and tired from work, all he had now was himself and Nat, but Nat shouldn’t have to hold him accountable, he’s an adult and she’s still a teenager, he should be parenting her instead of vice versa.
Ever since he had known TSV, he knew his life would end early. He was so cocky and almost arrogant in his behaviors, he was mentally unwell and made irrational decisions out of fear and impulse, he’d cry at the smallest things and would never want to let go of Tucker. He’d always push him away, but now all he could ever want is to feel his arms wrapped around his back and chest, his warm scarred body pressed into his as they lay motionlessly in Tuckers’ bed.
The realization that TSV had died years ago sunk deep into Tuckers’ consciousness, he never knew him, he knew his traumatized, PTSD ridden self, and… TSV got the same.
(A light breeze had picked up in Tucker’s room, his window slightly cracked, the curtains gently blowing in the wind. A small glimmer of light shown through the curtains, it wasn’t the sun, must’ve just been someone on their phone.
He gently stirred awake, his hand reaching over to grab TSV’s arm, only finding warm bedsheets and an empty spot on his bed. Damn that silly man and his early rising. He sat upwards slowly, his eyes blinking tiredly as he looked around his room, there was a small puff of smoke coming from his bathroom. TSV must’ve just been smoking in there, it smells like cigarettes in the room anyway.
“TSV…!” He shouted tiredly, still sitting in bed, his eyes slowly starting to awaken. He hears a hum come from the bathroom, followed by the light turning off and TSV trotting out, putting out a cigarette on the tray next to the bathroom. Tucker glared as TSV walked over to the bed nervously, slowly taking a seat on the end of the mattress.
“Good morning…” He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Could you… uh, smell it…” He looked at Tucker with puppy eyes, a twinge of guilt on his face.
“Of course I can, sunny.” He sneered, crossing his arms tiredly. “You couldn’t have just gone outside instead?”
“Meh… I didn’t think it would wake you up.”
Tucker turns his head away, the smell didn’t wake him up, it was the open window. “You opened the window… that woke me up, dumbass.”
TSV hummed, his expression soft and tired-like, he must’ve woken up recently, since the sheets were still warm. He stared at Tucker lovingly, his eyes hung low from exhaustion. “What’s with the starin’?” Tucker snickered, staring back jokingly, trying to be intimidating.
They both giggled quietly, TSV refusing to break eye contact.)
Never once an alcohol type of man. He considered himself responsible, he would never abuse drugs or alcohol or anything self destructive, but as the nights passed and as the chatting of soldiers outside his tent would quiet down, he dug through TSV’s drawers to find the bottle of bourbon they shared that one time.
It had spilled, there was still a decent amount in the bottle, though. He pulled it out of the drawer and hobbled back over to TSV’s bed, sitting down and staring at the glass, his hands burning as they interacted with the spilled liquor. There’s nothing to lose… it’s not like Nat would notice, he hasn’t seen her in days. He pulled the glass above his head and took 2 gulps, taking another before feeling his mouth begin to burn horribly. He didn’t care. He took another sip, not caring if it spilled on his shirt.
He could not care less, he kinda liked the burning and how warm the alcohol made him feel, first time he’s actually sweat in years. He took another gulp, aggressively slamming the bottle onto the bedside table, his body weakly collapsing onto the mattress. He couldn’t feel his legs or his arms after sitting in bed every single damn day, only getting up to use the restroom or to eat occasionally.
He found his cigarettes, he struggled to remember how to use them but got the hang of it. It gave him peace for a few hours, a few days, a few weeks…
Tucker groggily stirs awake on his side of the bed in his room, his mouth hanging open as his hangover pounds in his head. He groans and gently opens his eyes, pulling his arms up to them, twisting his wrists as he rubs his eyelids. A headache rung in his head and an ache in his legs and arms. He glanced at his side and noticed where he was, he was in his bedroom, he automatically recognized the cigarette tray on his desk and the bathroom door being open with light pouring out of it.
Goddamnit TSV, smoking in the tents again… He sighed and pulled the blanket off of him, noticing how wobbly his legs were as he tried to stand up. “TSV! Can I have a little help over here…” He shouted out, waiting for a response. He sat in bed before huffing and slowly helping himself stand up, stumbling his way over to his desk, looking at a recently put out cigarette sitting on the tray.
“Why are you smoking in the house…” He grumbled, turning around, expecting to meet TSV’s gaze. He sees no one, weird. He notices the door to the bathroom was shut now, how odd. He walked over to the door and slowly twisted the handle, peeking inside to see…nothing. There was absolutely nothing in the bathroom, or in his tent at all.
That’s when it hit him. It slammed into him like a brick, his heart shattering at the painful realization. TSV was gone, he’d been gone for months and Tucker— Tucker forgot. He fucking forgot. His stomach contorted and his eyes widened as he stared at the empty bathroom, like hundreds of shards of glass just stabbed into his skin, piercing him to the core. This…this couldn’t be real. How could he forget. How could he let TSV go after just one night of drinking…
A few hours later, Tucker had found himself sitting on his bed again, sitting in the center unlike how he used to sleep next to the wall. His routine contained TSV’s too, they always woke up together and got each other ready for patrol, they’d sleep extra long together and cuddle all day when they had days off. Tucker’s routine included TSV from the moment he woke up to the point he went to sleep, and it all hit him at once that this is why he’s been so depressed. He can’t possibly live without him.
He stared at the empty spot in his bed, the place he’d watch TSV sleep some nights, the place he’d big spoon him until he passed out, now all that’s remaining was a pillow that no longer smelled like him and cold bedsheets that had collected so much dust it was making Tucker sneeze. He had nothing left.
Out of sheer impulse, Tucker stood up and found himself running over to TSV’s old tent, he wanted to read what was in that box, he needed to read the contents. He frantically unzipped the tent and rushed to the back of the room, digging through his closet trying to find the cardboard box he found almost 2 months ago. He pushed past Danyons’ old sweaters and TSV’s beer bottles to find the small box he has ignored for months. His heart skipped a beat as he picked it up and examined it, it was the exact same from when he first found it, TSV’s horrible handwriting and all.
He slowly opened the box, his heart sinking as he saw several small notes on crumbled paper, his handwriting almost unreadable. They were small notes about him, him and TSV and Nat. Some were unfinished, some were torn and burned, some were spilled on, some read out like a suicide note.
i love you tucker, im sorry i struggle to say that to you but i swear i do
sitting at your desk while writing this lol, you’re so adorable while you sleep, hope ur having happy dreams
i hate to be serious in these notes but when i eventually succumb to this infection that i’ve dealt with for years just please take good care of Nat for me and please take care of yourself tucker, since i know you’ll be reading this.
wishing we could go to an arcade together and be all happy n shit, i just want tucker to smile, he frowns so much and it makes me sad
i love you tucker
hope you’ve been holding up ok sweetheart, i know it’s hard but you’ll be okay
please whatever you do don’t go abusing my cigarettes once you find out i’m dead, i don’t want you to have lung cancer in the future lol
feels like i’m writing my own fate, feels like i’m jinxing it by making this collection, i never want to die, but the time you’re reading this is when i know that i’m gone, so please keep these letters safe and don’t let them get you down, that isn’t my intention while writing these
i love you thmadjoy ( lol )
i tried to draw you last night while you were snoozing, it kinda sucks but i tried lol [A small pencil drawing of Tucker sleeping in his bed is shown below the text]
hope ur holding up well dear, take your time and treat yourself today, i know youre probably going through it big time right now
i love you tuck
you’re the love of my damn life tucker, i love you so much it hurts how i don’t tell you that enough. im sorry for all i’ve said to you that was mean or something, i hope you’re ok. i really really hope you’re ok. i don’t want you to be sad about me being gone, i don’t want that for the entire world.
my last interaction with you better be the best one we’ve ever had lol, i hope i got to hug and kiss you and make you feel safe and content for the last time. i hope our last kiss was the best kiss i’ve ever given you
Tucker, I don’t ever want to address you so formally on these napkin notes but, god, I wish I could tell you how much of a blessing you are. You bring the shine to my eyes every time I see you, you never fail to make me happy, your smile is the most beautiful thing to ever exist. I really hope you know that. I love you, Tucker. I hope you’re okay.
He knew… He knew he was gonna die, and he took time out of his final months to write these notes for him. He couldn’t be happy, he couldn’t smile at the dedication and love TSV put into this box, he couldn’t laugh with the “lol’s” scattered throughout the text, he couldn’t feel anything but emptiness. It felt as if his insides were being scraped out, that his throat was swollen and tight, that his hands lost all circulation and went ice cold. He couldn’t cry. He shouldn’t. He didn’t feel motivated by these notes, or any sense of closure, just unbridled sorrow.
Three months. Three whole months have passed since TSV was declared deceased. Tucker had surprisingly bettered himself in those several months he had alone. He started to eat and drink again, and began to socialize with others again. He rebuilt his relationship with Nat and they were finally on good terms again. He wasn’t thriving, but he was brutally depressed, at least not anymore.
The operation they were with had recently moved into a new building, a rundown apartment with no one in it so the troops could more easily protect civilians and themselves. Tucker and Nat had moved in comfortably, they were given rooms that were right across from each other so they never felt alone. He appreciated it a lot. Nat has been teaching the small child Half-Crop how to speak english and she was learning ASL herself. It warmed Tuckers’ heart to see his daughter happy again, to see his daughter thriving to the fullest that she can.
Tucker got his job as a patrol agent back and was finally able to relearn how to use his weapons. He was finally surviving without TSV, most times he wouldn’t even think of him, except the night he’s cleaning his quarters up and finds the box stuffed under his bed. As he pulls it out he suddenly feels the overwhelming emptiness return to his body, a feeling he had forgotten for months. He pushes it away, he couldn’t look at it, he refused to reread those notes, to be reminded of his lovers passing.
That was the first night in months that he couldn’t sleep.
He laid restless in his bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling. He was thinking back to all the times he spent with TSV, all the memories of the months directly after his passing, the first few weeks…
A sigh leaves his mouth, his body sitting up in his bed. He reaches for a cigarette, something he unfortunately got himself hooked on after his lovers death. As he lit the cigarette, he stared off into the darkness that laid outside his window, just out of his grasp. Perhaps… he was still out there. Maybe he survived the fall and began to live on his own… but that couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t possibly betray Tucker like that. He knew TSV had too much compassion in his heart to hurt him like this.
Tucker awakes from the ground in the “morning”, a gentle knock on his door. Must’ve been Pierce or one of his officers getting him up for work. He sighs, groggily standing up from the ground. His body was weak and unrested, he must’ve passed out after sitting on the floor for so long. He rubs his eyes, glaring over at the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute, Pierce.” He sneers.
As he begins to wake up, he walks over to his french press from a few weeks ago and opens his cabinet, pulling out an old bag of coffee beans. He used to enjoy crushing the coffee beans himself, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He pours some of the beans into the press and sets some water to boil. He was glad this abandoned apartment complex had perfectly functioning electricity, it made a lot of things much easier now.
The person at the door knocks again, this time it agitates Tucker.
“I fucking get it, Pierce!! Give me a damn chance to freshen up first.” He sighs, patiently waiting for the water to heat up. He walks over to his desk and takes the bulletproof vest off of the chair, slipping it onto his body. As he dressed himself accordingly and strapped his guns to his backpack and his holsters, he sighed and walked over to the door, not bothering to check the peephole. It was just gonna be Pierce or an officer, it’s not like it mattered anyway.
Instead, a pale man with long black hair and bruised, dark purple veins stood before him, his face a constant pensive.
His face was soaked with melancholy, his eyes darting up to meet Tuckers. He looked…normal. He was fine, he looked exactly how he looked the last time Tucker saw him, no new scars or bruises or anything. He had no braces or bandages or gear, just his t-shirt and a pair of shorts, along with his tennis shoes. He looked whole. His face was albeit bruised and his dark purple veins bulged out of his cheek, but he was exactly how Tucker left him. Exactly how he remembered. He stands a few inches below Tucker, being slightly shorter and all, his face still at head level.
He stood in Tuckers’ doorway like it was normal and he hadn’t just disappeared for 3 goddamn months. This was a damn hallucination. This couldn’t be fucking real. It’s all because he found that damn box again and read through those pages again, all because he clipped the dogtag onto his neck. He just wanted to go lay down, go to bed and sleep all day. He didn’t want to fucking go to work with delusions playing in his head. This is a joke, a joke his brain is playing on him. TSV was dead. He was fucking dead and Tuckers’ delusions couldn’t convince him otherwise.
But TSV’s pensive frown turns into a soft, gentle smile, his mouth opening slightly, “Got myself into trouble, I had to leave for a few months…” He spoke, his soft falsetto voice ringing in Tuckers ears.
“Are…” Tucker grabs TSV by the collar of his shirt and punched him in the jaw as hard as he possibly could, right into his visible veins, then uses both hands and aggressively pulls TSV into a kiss, a kiss so hard TSV was physically startled and felt himself almost jump as his hands instinctively rose to Tuckers’ jawline.
He doesn’t allow himself to melt into the kiss, he holds himself there long enough to lose his breath before pulling away, their faces close enough for Tucker to feel TSV’s forehead against his. A hallucination doesn’t feel like that, a hallucination wouldn’t kiss back or press its body into his, this… oh my god. This was real. This was fucking real.
His body shook and convulsed violently, his face trembling into tears. It didn’t matter if he cried, he didn’t care, all that mattered was that TSV was alive and okay.
“You’re a fucking piece of shit…” He sniffled, his arms wrapping around TSV’s shoulders, his body shaking so hard it shook TSV as well. “I thought you were dead…”
TSV hugged Tucker back as he felt his tears flow onto his clothes, his loud ugly sobbing echoing in the halls of the apartment complex. He cracked a smile, taking in Tucker’s warmth. “You can’t kill me that easily.” He cooed, his voice causing Tucker to soften his posture, his shoulders slumping and his head dropping onto TSV’s shoulder.
Tucker feels TSV try to pull away and he claws at him harder, refusing to let him go. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t dare let him leave again. He can’t leave like that again, not in a million years. He pulled TSV closer, his hand going up his neck, trying desperately to find his pulse. He needed to know he was alive, that his heart was still beating, that this wasn’t a hallucination.
“Hey hey hey… it’s alright Tuck! It’s okay…” TSV speaks, his voice flowing so perfectly into Tucker’s ears. “I’m not gonna leave again.”
“You… you bastard, you already did that you—“ TSV hums Tucker out of his rant, softly hushing him with his voice. TSV pulls him closer and let him rest his head on his chest, listening to the methodical sound of his heart beating.
For what felt like hours, the two men stood in Tuckers doorway and held each other until Tucker couldn’t possibly cry anymore. His body was still shaking violently in shock, his arms and legs becoming weak, unable to hold onto TSV anymore. He finally relaxes his muscles and melts into the embrace, his arms dangling at his side.
“Getting ready for work, hmm?” TSV asked playfully, pointing out Tuckers vest and steel-toed boots.
“I—I was I…I was…” He stammered, his voice breaking and tripping up at every word. His voice was coarse and scratchy from the sobbing, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was feeling the warmth of TSVs body against his.
“I…I—I’ll…I’ll never forgive—forgive you…” Tucker choked out, his mouth dry.
TSV smiled softly as he pulled Tucker closer, allowing all his weeps and cries to echo in his eardrums.
“I know, and that’s okay.”