Work Text:
Fuck.
A simple curse filled with emotion, a simple word filled thousands of meanings, but why was it thought?
Orion Lancaster, Head of psychology,, was in a state to say the least. He was crying, curled up in a ball on his chair sobbing into his arms. Why you may ask? Why was he of all people crying?
His hands got cold.
A simple thing to most people could cause a grown man to break, become a shell of himself.
His mind was scrambled, he gasped through his shallow breaths as he tried to put some reasonable thoughts in his brain, he tried breathing exercises, nothing. Nothing could help, all he heard was his fathers voice, screaming at him for being a fag, the feeling of hands over his body, beating him was felt though wasn't real, he was just in his office.
Then he felt actual pain.
A sharp jolt went through his leg where he was bitten, like a shock of electricity as he winced it got stronger, more painful.
He looked down at his leg, it was..glowing?
Yup, his leg was glowing, glowing a bright purple.
He let out a choaked out sob, he wanted to look away, he really did,, but it was like his eyes were glued to the glowing scab. He quickly realized that the glow was spreading. It looked similar to lightning bolts as it seemed to wrap around his legs, up his torso, to his shoulders, neck, arms, then hands.
The bolts seemed to resonate on certain areas, areas that he had scars at, and no,, not natural scars, man formed scars,, scars from his father.
He could feel the glow pool at his ribs, his back, his neck, and especially his hands,, making them ache with jolts of what felt like electricity, but it was piercing cold,, similar to frostbite. It gave him the worst reminder of his past, reminding him of a the nights in the cold. It made him want to puke.
Soon enough, something took over him. A voice in the back of his mind now present,, all he could feel was the pain from the bright bolts across his entire body. The lights began to fade but Lancaster wasn't in control, it was something else.
Lancaster paincked, not like it would help with anything. He knew what was gonna happen,,
The act.
The act this thing convinced Lancaster was gonna solve everything, but in reality,, it was gonna ruin everything.
Leading up to the act, Lancaster had been odd. He'd be distant, but, why?
You could say that it was just souly on building a plan,, but it was deeper than that.
He was making his friends realize him. Realize he was gone, making them feel,, weird. And when they did speak "Lancaster" knew to be extra kind to them so that his absence was more greater, pouring salt in the wound almost. But, out of all of this,, he was extra nice to Harley, so when he left again to his little office it felt just like Harley getting shot all over again.
Lancaster knew how to hurt people, knew how to get under other people's skin, knew how break them. But, he wouldn't, because he's a nice person. But,, this thing, this parasite, took advantage of his knowledge, and made him a monster.
"Lancaster" was discreet, not over doing his manipulation yet, he waited, slowly carving away at his friends from the inside out till they could only think about him, everything was about him. It made him feel like something for once, it made him feel important, even if Lancaster wasn't in control,, he craved being something.
To be something was everything to Lancaster, to be of use was how he shown affection. He loved the feeling of fixing things, he no— craved importance. He needed to make everything okay even if it costed his own well being, he was selfless,, too selfless for his own good.
But this parasite wanted to tear into Lancaster's soft flesh,, digging it's way slowly, painfully to his heart.
Right where Harley was caged,, deep in his rotting heart.
Glowing purple light bolts digging into skin as they wrapped around Lancaster's flesh, tighting around his wrists and neck,, flinching to grip the scalpel in his hand.
He was terrified,, he couldn't control his body, he was like a puppet, the only thing he was aware of and could control was the slight grip of the scalpel,, due to a twitch of immense pain going through his body. And the seeing of what's about to go down, mixed with the sound of heavy breathing. From whom?
Harley.
There layed Harley, helpless,, crushed beneath the filing cabinet with no one to help,, "Lancaster" was there, it was in control. And it definitely wasn't gonna help.
“...Lanc?”
Harley breathed out, his face filled with horror as he noticed the sharp object in "Lancaster's" hand, he then noticed something glowing wrapping around it, pooling at his faded scars.
"Lancaster" bent down beside Harley, holding his arm in its free hand.
“Hold still for a second.”
It said calmly, similar to how Lancaster would comfort a patient in therapy.
“Lancaster, was that a knife?..-”
He asked, his voice shaking,, he knew it was something sharp, but he hoped it wasn't, he hoped this was some sick prank.
“Scalpel.”
"Lancaster" corrected, quick to respond as it drew out the scalpel towards Harley's arm, an unreadable expression across it's face,, one Harley used to find comfort in.
“Okay, wait wait wait— what are you doing with that!?..”
Harley's voice pitched as he desperately tried to pull his arm away to no avail.
“I just have to try something out, it's gonna confirm my theory.”
It simply stated, brushing it off as it pressed the blade against Harley's skin, making a chill go down his spine. "Lancaster's" eye's wide with concentration,, as it slowly added more pressure.
“No,,- No!- listen, whatever your theory is you don't have to—”
“Edmund.”
It's voice was harsh, threatening yet said so quietly that it sounded calm. "Lancaster" frowned, as it glared up into Harley's eyes for a moment.
It's eyes were- something. They were distorted, one fully black except for where the pupil would be,, a glowing magenta dot. And the other was rolled back to expose the now glowing veins. It was disgusting.
Harley froze at the sight, falling silent besides the quiet grunt of pain that escaped his lips.
“Remember all the times you got drunk,?”
It pressed the blade of the scalpel slowly into Harley's skin, not breaking eye contact as it watched Harley's face twist and distort in distraught as he sharply breathed in.
“Lancaster—”
“Orion.”
“Orion— please- fuck-”
Harley winced out in pain, sharp bolts running through him as the blade dug deeper. He shut his eyes tightly hoping it would end.
It laughed.
“Oh Harley, remember all the times I took care of you?, remember all the times I walked you home from bars?, remember the time I drove you home from the new years party?, remember all the times I stayed up till the middle of the night in this site to check up on you,, make sure you weren't drunk out of your mind?..”
It's voice grew harsher, every time Harley squirmed, made a noise,, it'd press harder, go slower,, make sure to drag the pain out.
“Now, what have you've done for me?”
Harley fell silent, eyes opening to look at Lancaster,, his eyes filled with a cloud of unknown emotions. What have I done for him? What's something I did that—
Oh.
Harley has realized something,, in the years they've been friends, not once has Lancaster fully opened up. Not once has Lancaster asked for help. Not once has he, well, really talked about his feelings.
Yet, Lancaster knows everything about Harley.
The uncanny guilt rushed over Harley like a freight train, as he managed to stammerer a sentence.
“Orion— I'm-”
“Exactly.”
"Lancaster" spat it's words like venom as it made a sharp line across Harley's flesh. For every mark was filled with revenge, revenge for what? It didn't know,, for it only cared for one thing, and that thing was to watch things rot. To ruin, to destroy, to end. It wanted to end Lancaster's everything,, and his everything was Harley.
“Tell me, Edmund. Why do you think I care for you so dearly? Hm? What makes you believe that I think your so dear to my heart that I would go out of my way to do all this for you?”
Harley didn't know, he almost didn't want to know.
“I don't- ngh— know?!.. Why Orion, why.??”
“Because,, I love..you.”
Oh god, oh no.
The butterflies that would of formed into Harley's stomach from that statement were now wasps,, eating away at Harley's stomach lining all the way up to his heart.
“I love you more than myself, Harley. Don't you love me too? Don't you? After all I've done you must..”
It pressed the scalpel deep into Harley's arm, getting Harley to let out a scream followed by a choaked out sob.
“Ed, if you truly love me,,
let me do this.”
Bloody hands, blood loss,, through life and what can only feel like death does thou love the other?
Harley and Lancaster were never meant to be,, not like this, not ever.
But what were they meant to be then?,
Maybe they were simply too complex for one another,, two puzzle pieces from different puzzles. They fit, but the aren't meant to be, they will never make a picture in the grand scheme of things.