Work Text:
His skin burned.
No matter how much he begged his muscles to move, they didn’t. Holy water and garlic ran down his throat like acid. Blood and tissue seared and melted off his bones, leaving them picked clean.
And the faces of those two kids leered over him. Until the end.
But all Paul could think about was Marko. The way he hid his smile behind the shadow of his hat. When he would sit on the couch and be overtaken by his flock of pigeons. How he would whoop and holler the loudest during night flights.
The way he died. It replayed over and over in Paul’s head. The brothers had fled into the light. David was fuming, too busy with Michael and Star’s betrayal to focus on his dying brother.
“God Damnit, David! Please, can you do something?” Paul cried, cradling the bloodied body of his best friend. David snapped back. He looked sick for a moment before he kneeled by Paul’s side. Dwayne was hurrying around the factory, looking for anything to hemorrhage the bleeding.
Marko just looked up at Paul. His eyes were cold and scared. Paul had never seen him so scared. Marko was the type to laugh in the face of danger; to jump off the bridge just for the thrill of it. He believed he would never die; they all did.
Now Paul looked down at his great Icarus. Once a God among mortal men, he was now destined to fall thanks to the wrath of the daywalkers and their combined hubris.
The drummer supported the guitarist’s head with one hand and held firm on the wound with the other. It was deep. It was in the heart.
Marko was going to die.
“You’re going to be okay,” Paul whispered frantically. He took a breath, trying to stop his being from shaking. “We’ll fix this.”
Marko smiled. He fucking smiled. “You don’t have to tell me sweet nothings, Paul. I’m a dead man.” His voice broke, sending new waves of pain through Paul.
David was screaming at Dwayne now. The two began a shouting match.
“It was nice getting to know you, man.” The dying vampire rested a bloodied hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Maybe some day, we’ll meet again. Somewhere we aren’t hunted for trying to survive.
The body in Paul’s arms went limp. All life drained from the undead’s eyes.
The sound of boiling water hissing stopped the shouting match. The two blondes looked to see their dear friend dead.
The tears burned lines into the drummer’s skin, getting deeper and more sporadic with each sob. His skin blistered and melted, attempting to heal before a new stream cut through.
And he kept burning on the flight to the Emerson cottage.
In the bathroom.
In the tub.
And wherever he was now. A gray emptiness that seemed to stretch on forever. There was no above or below. There was no end or beginning. It just was.
Vampires weren’t supposed to go to heaven. Holy water burns them; crosses too. Everything about them went against any religion.
So, this wasn’t heaven. Was it Limbo? Paul had never considered what would happen after he died, mostly because he never imagined he would die. If a God dies, would they be sent to an afterlife?
The former vampire walked. He had no idea where he was going. Every fiber screamed at him. He looked down at his right hand. There was nothing left of it but bone. His jacket was ripped and scorched. It was monstrous.
But did it really matter? He was dead. It wasn’t like h-
Marko.
Paul was running now. Running God knows how fast to God knows where for God knows how long. He would run for eternity if it meant Paul could see him.
Marko.
Marko.
Marko.
There was a figure in the distance. Smaller shadows danced and floated around it. He had his back to Paul, but Paul could recognize that gaping hole in his chest.
“Marko.”
He stopped moving. A shadow rested on his shoulder, shaking out its wings. The guitarist turned on his heels, greeting the drummer with a cocky grin.
“I told you we would meet again.”
“I didn’t imagine it would be like this.” Marko covered quickly. “I was hoping for more of a reincarnation sorta thing. This place isn’t half bad either.”
Paul was slackjawed. How was he so calm about this?
And why wasn’t he mad?
“I’m sorry. I tried to avenge you. I should have paid more attention.”
“Avenge me? How Shakespearean of you!” The dark-haired boy chuckled.
Paul was taken aback. “You aren’t mad?”
Marko seemed to think for a second. “No, not really. Is it bad that I’m kind of glad you died? It was getting awfully lonely in here.”
It was Marko who approached him, wrapping his arms around the taller vampire. It was like Paul had the world on his shoulders again, a weight he would carry time and time again.
“No, it’s not bad.”
Marko pulled away to get a good look at Paul. He traced the exposed skull, making sure to study each divot.
“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Paul winced.
Marko met him with those deep eyes. “It is, but you know how much I love macabre.”
Their lips were pressed together, moving slowly against each other. They drank in the moment, never wanting to let go; praying it would never end.
And it never did.