Work Text:
Alex can’t sleep.
He doesn’t recall the last time he’d been able to get a full night's rest, if he did sleep at all Instead of exhaustion finally creeping up on him.
“Are you coming to bed?” Amy’s voice cuts through the silence. She’s leaning against the doorway leading into the hallway, her are pulled up in a bun, he notices she’s changed and is just wearing a t-shirt that goes to her mid-thighs.
“In a few,” Alex says, craning his neck to peer at Amy, her lips pull into a thin line but she nods nevertheless.
“Don’t be too long, okay?” Amy calls back as she turns on the heels of her feet and disappears down the hallway, the door creaks and shuts and it’s just Alex alone, again.
Time to himself, time to think.
And recently that hasn’t been doing him much good with how the thoughts continue to fester. Stalling. Stalling. Stalling. That’s what he’s doing, stalling.
He needs to do it before Amy becomes suspicious, she isn’t supposed to suspect anything. If he messes up, she knows. Amy’s smart, she’ll know and she’ll be hurt.
Sure, that hurt would dissipate somewhat in the grand scheme of things, when that thing began to rot her lungs, her heart, made everything collapse.
He couldn’t let it get to that point, he wouldn’t.
(It’s selfish to keep alive a dying dog just because you love them. Because even if they’re a dog, they mean something. And shouldn’t that be the same in cases like this? Prolonging this is selfish.)
She’d found the gun tucked away in the drawer because he’d gotten sloppy and brought it inside, and forgotten about it when things begin to die down just a bit. Just in case things happen, neighborhoods have been bad, it hadn’t been a lie but, it hadn’t been the truth either. Just in case things happened, so he felt safe, and for worse-case scenario. (When did we get a gun, Alex?)
But Amy didn’t need to know that.
And she wouldn’t know that.
He should do it now before he backs out. He needs to do it now before he screws up and does something and hurts her instead without an end in mind.
That’s what the gun is for, right? Quick and painless.
Quick and painless.
Standing up off the couch, Alex peers into the kitchen, his knees and legs almost instinctively lock as if attempting to defy what he’s about to do, screaming at him not to.But he has no other choice or he would have gone the other avenue.
It’s as if he’s on autopilot, Alex’s hesitant hands find their way onto the handle of the drawer. He pulls it open, there’s a tray of pens, towels, and the gun tucked neatly behind the tray.
Alex’s fingers wrap around the cool handle and he pulls it out and shuts the drawer, it’s cold and heavy.Too heavy in his hands. He pops out the bottom like he’d seen Brian do numerous times and when he’d been attempting to teach him.
It’s loaded.
That means it can’t not go off unless with a stroke of luck, or he guesses, bad luck, it gets jammed.
How does he get it into the bedroom? Is Amy asleep? does he hide it? Does he just walk in with it and place it in the drawer, he had mentioned to Amy about moving it. (She’d even asked him to move it so it wasn’t just lying around.)
Hiding it would be suspicious and set off alarm bells in Amy’s head and he can’t risk that He’ll walk in and place it in the drawer and if Amy asks, he’ll deal with it then.
Alex clutches the weapon tightly, knuckles turning white and he walks through the kitchen and living room, into the hallway, floorboards creaking, and he pushes the door open.
Amy’s sitting on her side of the bed, covers pulled up over her lap.She’s sunk into the pillows and reading a book. She lowers it for a moment to offer a smile of acknowledgment that he’d entered the room.
Alex walks to his side of the bed and opens the drawer and lays the gun down, he slides into bed beside Amy. “What are you reading?”
Amy places the book face down on her chest, blinking. “I don’t even remember, I’m falling asleep here,” she says, picking the book back up and saving her page before placing it onto her bedside table.
Alex hums in response before standing back up. “Long day?” He questions, walking towards the dresser and grabbing a folded shirt and pair of sweatpants.
“Mhm,” Amy hums confirming Alex’s thoughts.
That would be the least of her concerns and the last of them, at that.
“Where are you going?” Amy questions, propping herself back up against the stack of pillows.
“Nowhere,” Alex says, pulling off his shirt and moves to unbutton his jeans, once those are off he pulls on the sweatpants and then the shirt. “Just changing.”
Alex tosses his clothes into the hamper at the corner beside the closet. He slides back into bed beside Amy, situating himself next to her, she immediately closes in the remaining space beside him, her arm wrapping around him, Alex leans in.
Amy’s head comes to rest on his shoulder and he tilts his head towards her, warm eyes staring back at him, gentle smile on her lips, shorter strands of her light hair curl around her face framing it in the fringe.
“Something’s on your mind,” Amy says softly, assuredly, she knows. It’s not a question, it’s a statement because she knows.
One of the only things she still knows.
“Just thinking,” Alex answers, offering a weak smile, it’s all he can muster now.
“About?” Presses Amy as her hand finds its way to Alex’s chest, the pads of her fingers tracing shapes into the fabric. She’s persistent, she’s always been that way.
“About you,” It isn’t entirely a lie, it is absolutely about her, it’s so intrinsically about her and her alone because now she is the focus, she is next.
“You think flattery will get you everywhere, hm?” Amy questions, her palm flat against his chest now. “But I know that’s not it, what is it?”
“I’m just overthinking,” Alex settles on, disliking how instantaneously he answers, how sharp it is on his tongue and he knows it’s too fast for Amy’s liking because the expression on her face says bullshit. She doesn’t believe him.
It’s too fast, the shake in his voice and uncertainty that leaks it’s way into his voice and down his throat is too evident.
He loves her too much, that’s what’s going to hurt her, what ruins her. (She reciprocates and that’s what seals the nail in her coffin.)
“I’m tired,” Alex finally says, his throat tight.
Amy’s hand pulls away and for a moment she peers at Alex, but she bites her tongue. “So am I.” She concludes as Alex pulls the covers over her more, he situates the sheets just on his lap.
Amy’s hands find their way to the small of Alex’s back and nudge him to ease into the sheets, she maneuvers him a bit and his head slips onto her lap.
Alex doesn’t complain, he lets his eyes shut momentarily. As fucked up as it is to soak in this while it can still happen considering what he’s planning to do, he’s going to do it. At the very least he can have this, they can have this.
Long, slender fingers thread through Alex’s hair, sifting through tufts of his hair and combing her fingers through tangles.
Something bubbles within Alex’s throat and he gazes up at Amy, throat tight, chest tight and heavy. “I love you, Amy,”
“I love you too,” Amy murmurs as she allows Alex’s hand to come up to hers, lacing his fingers with hers.
Alex pulls his head off of Amy’s lap and her lips part as if she’s about to protest until she notices when Alex leans into the pillows and his arms open, inviting her to the empty space.She complies eagerly and sinks into his arms.
The steady beating of Alex’s heart is soothing, he thinks it beats too heavily, too fast, it’s not working right and he doesn’t know how Amy can’t tell.
Or is that just him?
Amy’s cheek rubs against the fabric of his shirt, Alex’s arms tighten around her and she feels his hand in her hair, twirling it around his finger and moving it out of her face, she sighs contentedly.
It’s not long until Amy is out like a light, her hair creating a curtain for a side of her face. Alex shifts to lay more comfortably and Amy scoots off him in her sleep, back to Alex’s chest, he should pull her back and hold her against his chest, but if he does that he’ll back out again, won’t he?
Alex’s hand shoots out instinctively to the drawer and he retrieves the gun, the metal is cold against the palm of his hand, his fingers are stiff and so is his wrist, his hand trembles as he pulls it close.
The safety is on.
Alex pulls Amy against him and her head falls against his chest, his heart rattles against his ribcage as his hands grow slick with sweat.
Alex’s finger inches towards the safety and it clicks as it unlocks, it’s loud, too loud.
So are his thoughts. So is everything.
Alex’s fingers tighten around the handle of the gun and he presses it to Amy’s temple, his hands trembling.
It’s loaded.
Alex’s finger presses against the trigger and his eyes slam shut, he expects to flinch at the loud sound that should come next but nothing.
It jammed.
It jammed.
Alex sucks in a deep breath and he swears his heart stops when he hears Amy’s tired voice.
“Alex?”
Amy’s eyes flutter open, bleary from sleep and she blinks a few times before her eyes, warm pools of brown, widen in response.
“What are you doing?” Amy’s arm instinctively reaches out, her fingers latch onto Alex’s wrist, nails digging into his skin as her fingers curl around him.
“I’m sorry,” Alex wrenches his wrist from Amy’s grasp and she immediately jerks away from him when he struggles to free his wrist, her back hits the headboard, eyes still wide, pupils dilating.
“Put the gun down, Alex,” Amy’s hands clutch the sheets as she scrambles backward and the headboard reminds her she cannot back away anymore.
It’s the right thing to do. And he hates himself for it, he is sorry, but it’s the right thing to do and it’s better to ask for forgiveness, than to pray it will get better because it won’t
It was never supposed to be like this but it was always going to end like this. The look In Amy’s eyes and the expression on her face.
He’d wanted to avoid seeing it again. The way Sarah had looked at him, the way her eyes bore into him. And Amy’s looking at him like that.
Death was supposed to be kind to Sarah, to Seth, to Amy, to all of them. It wasn’t supposed to be angry and fearful but it reminds him that they don’t understand it the way he does.
It was supposed to be mercy, the arms of death. Before the rot could spread, before what he was looking at was just decomposing from the inside even though somehow you are still found to be alive.
“I’m sorry,” Alex repeats as if repetition makes it so.
They both know it doesn’t.
Alex’s hand outstretches, hand to Amy’s cheek, she jerks away, shoulders shuddering. Her hand comes over his but it’s all nails, all bite.
He doesn’t blame her.
It makes it just a bit easier that she has an expected reaction.
Alex points the gun towards Amy, hands trembling as he adds another to secure his grasp on it, he returns the latch to safety before flipping it again and it clicks, the sound filling the room.
Amy’s breathing coming in labored huffs and he’s done nothing yet. “Put it down,” she repeats.
Alex slams his eyes shut, he lowers the gun,then focuses his gaze on Amy again. Pointing the gun towards her head, she lurches forward in an attempt to get out of the way and put distance between them.
The gunshot goes off ringing in Alex’s ears.
Alex’s eyes look at the growing patch of red on Amy’s shirt, it’s staining the fabric a deep shade of red, spreading minute by minute.
He’d shot her in the stomach. He had missed.
The hiss of pain is unmistakable.
Alex points the gun at Amy once again, hands trembling, his other hand grabs his wrist, steadying it. His finger inches towards the trigger and all is dead silent aside from the pair's breathing.
A loud bang resounds in Alex’s ears and Amy slumps forward, blood pooling around where her head lies, staining her hair, staining it with his sins.
Instinctively Alex’s arms collect the heap Amy collapses in, head falling against his chest languidly, staining his shirt red as his hands press against where the blood staining her hair is darkest in an attempt to staunch the bleeding even though it is useless.
He’s not going to do any more than this.
There was never any other chance to begin with.
Alex buries his face into Amy’s hair, the heat, tears that burn his eyes and sting his throat, mixing with the deep shade seeping into Amy’s hair.